ST '  GEORGE 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


SUNSET   RANCH 


SUNSET  RANCH 


A  BOY'S  STORY  OF  ADVENTURE 
IN  THE  WEST 


BY 

ST.  GEORGE  RATHBORNE 

AOTHO*   OF 

"CANOE  AND  CAMPFIRE,"   "RIVAL  CANOE  BOYS,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

STREET  &  SMITH 

PUBLISHERS 


1901, 

By  STREET  &  SMITH 


SUNSET  RANCH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    TENDERFOOT. 

The  western  sun  was  hovering  above  the  level 
horizon,  as  though  loath  to  say  his  "good-night," 
when  a  weary  figure  on  foot,  skirting  a  muddy  "buf- 
falo wallow,"  with  a  faint  show  of  eager  anticipa- 
tion, climbed  the  slight  rise  beyond,  whence  a 
sweeping  view  of  the  everlasting  prairies  might  be 
obtained. 

A  smooth-faced  boy,  the  tired  pilgrim  appeared  to 
be,  whose  rather  showy  corduroy  garments,  while 
fashioned  somewhat  on  the  ranger  and  hunter 
model,  bespoke  the  Eastern  tailor  rather  than  the 
tough  and  well-seasoned  garb  of  a  prairie-roving 
"cow  puncher,"  with  greasy  leather  overalls  or 
"chaps."  When  he  had  "topped  the  rise"  and  cast 
one  quick  glance  hither  and  yon,  a  groan  of  bitter 
disappointment  broke  from  his  dry  lips,  in  spite  of 
his  apparent  nerve. 

"That  settles  it — I'm  lost,  beyond  a  shadow  of  a 
doubt,  and  with  a  pretty  good  chance  of  spending 
my  first  night  alone  on  the  open  prairie,"  he  said, 
dolefully. 

Somehow  he  shuddered  at  the  prospect.  The 
vast  solitude  surrounding  him  like  an  ocean,  ap- 
peared so  tremendous,  so  overpowering  to  one  ac- 
customed to  city  life,  or,  at  most,  a  brief  vacation 


8  The  Tenderfoot. 

with  companions  in  the  great  woods  of  the  Adiron- 
dacks  or  Maine. 

The  lad  appeared  to  have  considerable  determina- 
tion of  character,  while  perhaps  lacking  in  those 
sterling  resources  which  seem  to  come  so  naturally 
to  Western  boys,  often  forced  to  depend  upon  them- 
selves and  compelled  to  meet  the  hardships  of  life 
at  an  early  age. 

At  least,  upon  finding  himself  face  to  face  with  ill 
luck,  he  set  manfully  to  work  to  make  the  best  of  a 
bad  bargain. 

One  last  lingering  glance  cast  around,  more  to 
get  his  bearings  than  in  the  faint  hope  of  discover- 
ing distant  signs  of  a  camp-fire  or  the  white-topped 
prairie  schooners  that  constituted  the  freighters 
caravan,  from  which  he  had  wandered  so  disas- 
trously. 

The  sun  was  half  out  of  sight,  and  the  scene  was 
one  to  arouse  a  sense  of  admiration  in  almost  any 
human  heart,  but,  facing  a  night  of  lonely  vigil  upon 
the  broad  prairie,  surrounded  by  unknown  perils, 
young  Cuthbert  Lee  was  hardly  in  a  state  of  mind 
to  pay  much  attention  to  these  things — the  poetic 
was  overwhelmed  by  the  practical  side  of  his  na- 
ture. 

He  strove  to  remember  all  he  had  read  and  heard 
about  camping  on  the  open  plain,  but  made  sad 
work  of  it — a  little  actual  experience  is  always  worth 
a  ton  of  theory.  Of  course,  he  could  make  some 
sort  of  a  fire,  being  possessed  of  matches,  but  the 
prospect  of  supper  was  exceedingly  vague,  seeing 
that  he  had  nothing  to  cook. 

One  thing  he  noticed  that  gave  him  some  en- 
couragement— less  than  half  a  mile  to  the  left  the 
ground  was  broken  more  than  usual — indeed,  the 
presence  of  a  bunch  of  trees  in  that  quarter  made 
him  suspect  the  presence  of  a  ravine  or  coulee,  which 
would  afford  an  excellent  camping  spot. 


The  Tenderfoot.  9 

Accordingly,  with  a  little  show  of  animation,  he 
dragged  one  tired  leg  after  the  other  and  drew  near 
the  place. 

Twilight  had  come,  when  objects  take  on  a  weird 
aspect,  and  the  boy  was  considerably  startled  to  see 
a  skulking  gray  animal  slink  from  the  shelter  of  the 
few  trees,  losing  itself  in  the  long  grass. 

"Pshaw!  Doubtless  a  cowardly  coyote,  more 
scared  than  myself.  At  any  rate,  I'm  not  going  to 
be  thwarted.  Here  I  am  and  here  I  expect  to  stay 
for  the  night." 

With  that  he  picked  up  a  piece  of  fallen  timber 
that  afforded  a  fair  cudgel,  and  giving  a  husky 
shout,  dashed  into  the  motte  of  cottonwoods. 

If  there  were  other  animals  nearby  he  saw  no 
signs  of  their  presence.  With  almost  feverish  haste 
he  began  to  gather  material  for  a  fire.  Having 
fired  the  sage  brush  he  heaped  dead  branches  upon 
the  pile  and  presently  a  cheery  roar  announced  that 
his  object  had  been  accomplished. 

This  done  he  set  to  work  securing  a  goodly  pile 
of  fuel  for  use  during  the  long  and  weary  hours  of 
the  night  that  was  already  settling  fast  around  him. 

Utterly  fagged  out  at  last  the  youngster  threw 
himself  down  where  the  tufts  of  buffalo  grass  grew 
thickest,  and  began  to  face  the  situation. 

Never  had  the  darkness  seemed  so  intense,  and 
even  the  pitying  stars  were  blotted  out  of  sight  by 
masses  of  clouds  that  had  arisen  since  sundown. 

The  wind  moaned  at  intervals  through  the  cotton- 
woods,  and  to  his  excited  imagination  the  spirits  of 
the  air  were  holding  carnival,  as  though  mocking 
his  distress. 

Luckily  he  was  possessed  of  an  average  amount  of 
nerve,  such  as  became  a  lad  whose  parent  had  won 
'more  than  his  share  of  fame  during  those  dark 
days  when  his  native  State,  fair  Virginia,  was  over- 
run roughshod  by  the  armies  of  the  Federals;  for 


io  The  Tenderfoot. 

Cuthbert  Lee's  home  had  been  in  the  ill-starred 
Shenandoah  Valley. 

The  hooting  of  owls  and  barking  of  prairie  dogs 
in  a  gopher  village  close  by  were  sounds  with  which 
he  had  become  somewhat  accustomed,  so  that  they 
gave  him  no  uneasiness;  but  presently  other  noises 
of  the  night  came  to  his  ears  that  somehow  strained 
his  nerves  to  their  utmost  tension. 

He  recognized  the  familiar  yelp  or  bark  of  the 
sneaking  coyote,  to  whom  the  blaze  was  a  beacon  of 
fear,  and  he  judged  from  the  chorus  of  sounds,  that 
quite  a  pack  of  these  jackals  of  the  prairie  hovered 
near  by. 

"Yip!     Yip!     Yip!" 

What  was  that  long-drawn,  mournful  howl  that 
pierced  the  darkness  of  the  night  with  startling  force, 
causing  the  lone  camper  to  clutch  his  sturdy  cudgel 
and  stare  into  the  pitchy  gloom  with  bated  breath? 
It  was  a  gaunt  gray  prairie  wolf  that  gave  tongue — 
he  had  heard  it  once  before,  though  safe  at  the  time 
behind  the  rampart  of  freighters'  wagons,  and  could 
never  forget  the  dread  sound. 

Flashing  into  his  mind  came  all  the  stories  he  had 
ever  read  concerning  these  bold  animals — of  hunters 
attacked  and  borne  down  by  mere  force  of  numbers, 
to  fall  victims  to  the  sharp,  snapping  fangs  of  the 
gray  prairies — of  travelers  on  the  snow-covered  Si- 
berian steppes  chased  by  a  troop  of  gaunt  wolves, 
frequently  overwhelmed  and  forced  to  fight  for  life. 
The  prospect  was  not  pleasant,  to  be  sure. 

"Yip!     Yip!     Yip!" 

To  his  dismay  a  second  howl  of  the  same  hideous 
tenor  came  from  a  point  opposite,  and  a  third 
sounded  in  the  distance.  The  boy-camper  sprang 
to  his  feet  in  alarm. 

Evidently  his  situation  was  perilous  in  the  ex- 
treme— what  would  he  not  have  given  for  the  new 
Winchester  repeating  rifle  that  had  been  fastened  to 


The  Tenderfoot.  1 1 

his  saddle  and  carried  away  when  his  treacherous 
cayuse  took  a  notion  to  stampede  while  the  boy  was 
examining  a  curious  gopher  village  with  its  strange 
denizens  in  the  shape  of  rattlesnakes,  owls  and 
prairie  dogs!  Regrets  were  useless — he  must  do 
the  best  possible  in  the  circumstances. 

One  thing  he  remembered  in  this  emergency — 
that  all  wild  animals,  from  the  royal  lion  of  the  Afri- 
can forest  down  to  the  hyena  and  coyote,  have  more 
or  less  fear  of  fire,  and  hesitate  to  attack  a  human 
being  who  has  taken  refuge  behind  a  barricade  of 
flame. 

Bearing  this  in  mind  he  endeavored  to  arrange 
matters  so  that  he  might  have  such  a  protector  on 
either  side,  although  this  state  of  affairs  promised 
to  make  sad  inroads  upon  his  limited  stock  of  fuel. 

As  time  crept  on  he  noticed  that  the  signal  howls 
seemed  to  come  from  various  quarters,  as  though 
the  hungry  wolves  had  drawn  a  circuit  around  the 
camp. 

He  might  have  taken  refuge  in  a  tree  had  he  not 
doubted  his  ability  to  climb  the  cottonwoods  with 
their  smooth  trunks,  destitute  of  branches  to  quite 
a  dizzy  height. 

The  night  wind  fanned  the  flames  and  sent  the 
smoke  scurrying  aloft  in  fantastic  wreaths  that 
added  to  the  weird  aspect  of  things  in  general. 

And  through  the  darkness  at  intervals  came  that 
weird  howl: 

"Yip!     Yip!     Yip!" 

Taken  altogether  it  was  a  night  never  to  be  for- 
gotten by  the  young  fellow  to  whom  the  experience 
came  as  an  unwelcome  guest.  By  degrees  the 
prowlers  around  the  camp  grew  bolder  as  their  fear 
of  the  snapping  flames  became  less  acute,  and  it  was 
not  a  great  while  before  Cuthbert  discovered  a  very 
savage  pair  of  yellow  orbs  glowing  amid  the  dusky 


ia  The  Tenderfoot. 

shadows  marking  the  extreme  limit  of  the  firelight 
circle. 

Very  hungry  looking  and  cruel  these  eyes  ap- 
peared, and  obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  the  beleag- 
uered boy  snatched  up  a  blazing  stick  and  hurled  it 
flaming  and  hissing  in  the  quarter  whence  the  alarm 
sprang. 

He  had  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a  dusky  form  slink- 
ing precipitately  away,  but  his  exultation  was  short, 
since  other  equally  venomous  orbs  glared  from  new 
quarters. 

Evidently  the  wolves  were  closing  in — inch  by  inch 
they  shortened  their  circuit,  gaining  new  courage 
constantly  until  at  length,  grown  desperately  bold, 
one  would  leap  from  cover,  to  be  followed  by  the 
rest. 

The  prospect  was  so  appalling  that  even  a  full- 
fledged  prairie  hustler  might  have  felt  his  nerves 
quiver  with  such  a  battle  on  his  hands,  and  surely 
this  Virginia  lad,  armed  only  with  a  stout  heart,  and 
a  cudgel  that  must  prove  a  mere  mockery  of  defense, 
might  easily  be  pardoned  for  experiencing  deadly 
fear  as  he  faced  the  situation. 

Help  there  was  surely  none,  so  that  he  need  not 
waste  his  breath  in  vain  shouts,  save  as  they  might 
serve  to  alarm  the  creeping  beasts  around  his  fire 
line. 

Indeed,  if  there  existed  human  beings  within  five 
miles  of  his  camp,  the  chances  were  about  three  to 
one  they  would  turn  out  to  be  hostile  Sioux  Indians 
on  the  warpath,  or  worse  still,  some  of  the  despera- 
does who  haunted  the  overland  trail  to  the  Black 
Hills,  bent  upon  deeds  of  plunder  in  holding  up 
stagecoaches  or  freighters'  caravans. 

Having  about  exhausted  his  slender  resources  in 
the  matter  of  defense,  the  youngster  firmly  grasped 
his  one  weapon  and  with  clenched  teeth  awaited  the 
attack.  Men  of  his  house  had  met  death  bravely  in 


The  Tenderfoot.  13 

mortal  combat  with  the  armed  foe,  in  defense  of  the 
principles  that  were  a  part  of  their  State  existence; 
and  he  believed  that,  his  first  fear  having  passed 
away,  he  could  show  himself  a  worthy  scion  of  the 
famous  family. 

At  least  he  would  not  have  long  to  wait  in  such  a 
condition  of  dread  suspense,  for  the  hungry  beasts 
were  growing  impatient,  and  were  creeping  closer 
all  around. 

He  calculated  that  there  must  be  at  least  five  of 
the  enemy,  far  too  many  to  admit  of  the  slightest 
hope  on  his  part. 

"If  I  only  had  my  gun !"  he  muttered.  "What  sad 
havoc  I  would  make  among  these  miserable  prowl- 
ers, had  fortune  but  left  me  that  faithful  weapon!" 

Nearer  still! 

The  pilgrim  from  the  East  gave  one  last  agonized 
look  alow  and  aloft,  in  the  hope  that  some  avenue  of 
escape  which  had  hitherto  eluded  him  might  be 
opened  at  this  moment,  but  the  only  result  was 
despair. 

All,  then,  was  lost  save  the  chance  of  laying  about 
him  vigorously  to  the  last  and  doing  all  the  damage 
his  desperate  muscles  were  capable  of  executing. 

Had  he  been  prairie  born,  with  keen  ears,  able  to 
detect  and  define  every  sound  that  the  night  wind 
carried,  he  might  have  discovered  reason  for  encour- 
agement ;  but  with  death  staring  him  in  the  face  the 
dull  thud  of  horse's  hoofs  coming  down  the  wind 
was  quite  unnoticed. 

He  had  already  decided  which  one  of  his  four- 
footed  adversaries  he  would  have  to  deal  with  first — 
the  largest  and  fiercest  of  the  pack,  bolder  than  his 
fellows,  and  actually  undaunted  when  Cuthbert,  with 
a  shout,  ha'd  hurled  another  blazing  brand  close  to 
where  he  had  drawn  his  quivering,  attenuated  body. 

Nor  did  he  err  in  this  conclusion,  for  it  was  this 


14  The  Tenderfoot. 

identical  beast  that  suddenly  leaped  from  his  covert 
and  made  a  desperate  dash  for  the  lad. 

Perhaps  young  Lee  had  played  the  national  game 
of  baseball  at  college,  but  certainly  he  never  swung 
a  bat  with  truer  aim  than  when  his  cudgel  whistled 
through  space,  to  meet  the  springing  brute  in  mid-; 
air.  j 

It  was  a  center-shot,  deserving  of  a  "home-run" — -j 
the  momentum  acquired  by  the  gray  poacher  in  his 
forward  leap  was  entirely  overcome,  and  more  than 
that  his  body  received  such  an  impetus  that  he  was 
sent  whirling  into  the  fire,  from  which  he  immedi- 
ately sprang,  amid  a  shower  of  sparks,  a  badly- 
singed  but  possibly  wiser  wolf. 

So  far  as  it  went  this  was  good  enough ;  and  had 
he  been  given  a  fair  chance  the  youngster  felt  he 
could  hold  his  own  against  the  gray  hosts,  treating 
each  in  turn  to  the  same  dose  of  medicine. 

It  chanced  unfortunately,  that  his  assailants  had 
views  of  their  own  in  the  matter,  which  conflicted 
sadly  with  his  own. 

Encouraged  by  the  attack  of  their  savage  leader, 
and  evidently  in  no  wise  deterred  by  his  dolorous 
fate,  the  rest  of  the  bunch  made  a  concerted  rush 
toward  the  object  of  their  hate. 

It  was  the  crisis. 

The  lad  saw  numerous  gray  bodies  rising  into 
view.  He  could  detect  glowing  orbs  and  even  the 
gaping  red  jaws  which  held  two  rows  each  of  cruel, 
white  teeth  already  whetted  for  their  feast. 

Hardly  was  he  given  time  to  recover  and  assume 
a  position  of  defense  when  the  hungry  beasts  were 
upon  him. 

He  struck  out  manfully,  with  a  desperation  nerved 
by  despair,  and  sent  a  couple  of  his  four-footed  ene- 
mies tumbling  over  each  other,  yelping  and  snarling 
as  they  tossed  about;  but  a  third  pounced  upon  his 


The  Tenderfoot.  IV 

back  and  clutched  a  coat  sleeve  between  his  teeth, 
thus  rendering  the  desperate  boy  almost  helpless. 

Though  driven  nearly  frantic  by  the  condition 
confronting  him,  Cuthbert  would  undoubtedly  have 
struggled  manfully  to  the  last  gasp. 

Fortunately  there  was  no  need,  since  the  ap- 
proaching hoof  strokes  were  close  at  hand  and  sig- 
naled the  advent  of  a  newcomer  on  the  scene. 

There  was  a  shout  not  unlike  the  wild  war-whoop 
of  a  Sioux  brave  plunging  into  the  thick  of  battle,  a 
rush  of  horse's  hoofs  and  then  the  sharp  ringing  sa- 
lute of  a  heavy  six-shooter,  the  "gun"  upon  which 
every  cowboy  and  range  rider  depends  in  an  emer- 
gency, and  with  which  he  generally  becomes  remark- 
ably proficient. 

Cuthbert's  fierce  assailants  seemed  to  recognize 
the  doom  of  their  assault  in  this  new  advent,  and 
deserting  their  expected  prey,  sought  shelter  in  the 
surrounding  gloom ;  but  two  of  them  remained  upon 
the  battle-ground  as  evidence  of  the  skillful  handling 
of  the  newcomer's  gun. 

Cuthbert  could  hardly  believe  in  his  good  fortune 
— it  seemed  as  though  he  had  been  virtually 
snatched  right  out  of  the  jaws  of  death  by  almost  a 
miracle. 

He  strained  his  feverish  eyes  to  see  through  the 
smoke,  whether  his  new  friend  were  red  or  white. 

Expecting  to  discover  a  brawny  teamster,  or  at 
least  a  veteran  cow  puncher,  grizzled  and  bronzed 
and  muscular,  he  was  amazed  to  find  that  the  figure 
on  the  back  of  the  yellow  broncho  was  that  of  a  boy 
younger  even  than  himself,  and  smaller  of  build. 

The  "kid"  was  garbed  after  the  manner  of  a  cow- 
boy and  sat  his  saddle  with  the  air  of  one  who  con- 
sidered it  no  difficult  task  to  "bust  bronchos"  and 
wear  out  the  most  vicious  of  prairie  horses  without 
"pulling  leather"  or  taking  his  hands  from  the 
bridle. 


1 6  The  Tenderfoot. 

Brown  as  an  Indian,  keen  of  eye  and  with  an  air 
of  determination  about  him  that  gave  much  promise 
of  future  manhood,  the  newcomer  charmed  the  ten- 
derfoot, whose  ambition  it  was  to  mount  the  dizzy 
heights  attained  by  this  youngster  with  such  appar- 
ent ease. 

Seeing  that  the  other  had,  to  all  appearances, 
come  out  of  the  scrape  with  little  harm  beyond  a 
torn  coat  and  a  few  scratches,  the  rider  on  the  buck- 
skin horse  indulged  in  a  hearty  boyish  laugh. 

Doubtless  to  him  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  adven- 
ture loomed  up,  but  poor  Cuthbert  had  passed 
through  such  a  fearful  experience  that  he  was  more 
or  less  rattled,  and  while  he  grinned  in  sympathy,  it 
was  more  because  he  felt  under  heavy  obligations 
to  this  new  friend  than  in  a  humor  to  join  in  his  mer- 
riment. 

"That  was  a  pretty  close  call,  stranger,"  sang  out 
the  angel  who  had  delivered  him  from  so  terrible  a 
fate. 

"And  you  came  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  I  want 
to  thank  you " 

"Oh!  bother  all  that!  This  is  what  we  call  high 
fun  out  here.  I'm  never  happier  than  when  knock- 
ing over  a  few  of  them  gray  critters  on  the  jump." 

Cuthbert  himself  believed  he  would  be  of  the  same 
mind  in  the  future,  since  those  skulkers  had  given 
him  a  scare  he  was  not  apt  to  forget  in  years. 

"You  wonder  who  I  am  and  how  I  happen  to  be 
camped  here  without  horse  or  weapons,  so  let  me 
explain,"  he  hastened  to  say,  interpreting  the  curi- 
ous glance  the  other  cast  about  the  lone  camp  under 
the  cottonwoods. 

It  was  quickly  told,  and  in  such  a  frank,  engaging 
manner,  not  sparing  himself  for  his  blunders,  that 
the  lad  on  the  buckskin  horse  was  quite  taken  with 
him. 

He  held  out  a  hand  impulsively,  the  same  that  had 


The  Tenderfoot.  17 

worked  the  gun  with  such  disastrous  results  to  the 
snarling  wolves. 

"Right  glad  to  know  you;  needn't  be  ashamed  of 
what  happened.  No  man  could  have  shown  more 
bull  pluck  in  facin'  the  critters.  Me  ?  Oh,  I'm  only 
Karl,  a  range  rider,  off  his  beat,  and" — here  he 
grinned  broadly — "lookin'  for  trouble,  as  Old  Sile 
says." 

It  was  a  strange  meeting,  and  one  heavily  charged 
with  fateful  issues.  Ten  minutes  before  neither 
knew  of  the  other's  existence,  yet  now  their  life  lines 
had  crossed,  and  they  were  destined  to  endure  much 
in  common. 

To  Cuthbert  it  was  a  meeting  fraught  with  mo- 
mentous possibilities. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  college  lad  had  con- 
ceived an  ardent  desire  to  become  a  centaur  of  the 
plains,  a  cowboy,  one  of  those  dashing  spirits  whose 
wild  life  possessed  a  fascination  for  him  which  he 
could  hardly  understand,  much  less  explain. 

And  in  this  wiry  lad,  whose  home  was  in  the  sad- 
dle, and  who  was  doubtless  just  as  expert  at  sending 
a  rope  lasso  through  the  air  or  taming  a  vicious 
broncho  as  he  had  shown  himself  to  be  with  a  gun, 
he  saw  his  ideal. 

But  this  was  not  the  sole  cause  of  Cuthbert  Lee 
finding  himself  under  a  Dakota  sky.  There  was  an- 
other and  a  far  more  potent  reason.  Had  Karl  been 
able  to  peep  into  the  Lee  home  way  back  in  Virginia 
he  would  have  found  that  this  plucky  youngster 
whose  life  he  had  saved  was  bound  up  in  a  mystery 
in  the  unraveling  of  which  he  was  to  witness  many 
strange  scenes  and  live  through  countless  hardships. 

Karl  had  meanwhile  dismounted,  and  was  picket- 
ing his  horse  after  the  custom  of  his  kind. 

Without  warning,  save  a  sudden  shout,  he  sprang 
to  one  side  and  began  to  stamp  and  thresh  around 
like  one  who  had  taken  leave  of  his  senses;  but 


1 8  The  Tenderfoot. 

Cuthbert  was  not  puzzled  to  account  for  his  actions 
since  he  saw  that  Karl  slapped  with  his  hat  at  little 
spouts  of  flame  that  had  begun  to  flash  up  amid  the 
clumps  of  prairie  grass,  where  the  last  blazing  ember 
thrown  at  the  gaunt  leader  of  the  wolf  horde  had 
lodged. 

Grasping  the  situation,  the  boy  from  the  East 
joined  Karl  in  his  impromptu  dance,  and  between  the 
two  the  incipient  conflagration  was  finally  subdued. 

"Phew!"  gasped  the  range  rider  as  victory  finally 
perched  upon  their  standard;  "you  came  near  start- 
ing a  racket  that  would  ha'  played  the  very  old 
Dickens." 

"Would  it  have  been  very  serious?"  asked  Cuth- 
bert. 

"Well,  when  you've  seen  one  or  two  prairie  fires 
I  reckon  you'll  be  careful  how  you  open  the  ball. 
But  then  I  forgot;  you  had  your  life  at  stake." 

"It's  a  pretty  good  thing  we  stamped  it  out  then." 

"Yes,  sirree;  we  jest  caught  the  blaze  in  time — 
with  this  wind  and  dry  grass  it  would  have  gone  off 
with  a  roar.  To  tell  the  truth,  I'm  not  too  fond  of 
such  a  thing  myself — you  see  I  lost  all  my  hair  and 
part  of  my  hide  in  one  a  year  or  two  back,  and  can't 
forget  it." 

He  spoke  as  ojae  with  a  fund  of  experience  to 
draw  upon,  and  Cuthbert  being  only  a  greenhorn, 
found  himself  lost  in  admiration  of  such  a  bold,  and, 
in  his  mind,  romantic  character. 

Not  that  any  evidence  of  pomp  or  pride  could  be 
seen  about  Karl,  who,  while  sturdy  and  self-pos- 
sessed, appeared  to  be  just  what  he  was,  a  genuine, 
whole-souled,  impulsive  boy,  able  to  accomplish 
quite  a  few  things  in  keeping  with  his  bold  calling, 
yet  liable  to  make  mistakes  which  he  would  frankly 
own  up  to. 

They  sat  down  together  by  the  fire,  and  Karl  pro- 
ducing some  food  from  the  bag  at  his  saddle,  the 


The  Tenderfoot.  19 

tenderfoot  broke  his  fast.  Of  course  they  talked  as 
boys  will,  and  in  an  hour's  time  had  exchanged  con- 
fidences, so  that  they  appeared  to  have  known  each 
other  for  years,  such  is  the  ingenuous  nature  of  un- 
suspicious youth. 

What  Karl  was  induced  to  tell  concerning  his  ro- 
mantic life  in  the  saddle,  with  its  hardships  and 
pleasures,  seemed  to  quite  enthrall  the  other,  who 
began  to  see  a  chance  of  his  dream  coming  true, 
when  he  too  might  scour  the  broad  prairies  in  chase 
of  buffalo  and  antelope,  or  join  with  other  cowboys 
in  the  grand  spring  and  fall  round-up  of  cattle  and 
horses,  a  genuine  cow  puncher  and  breaker  of 
bronchos. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CHASED    BY    A    PRAIRIE    FIRE. 

Sitting  there  by  the  bright  camp-fire,  the  boy  from 
the  East  forgot  his  fatigue  and  the  hazardous  ad- 
venture through  which  he  had  recently  come. 

He  listened  like  one  charmed  while  Karl  told  in 
simple,  though  graphic  language,  what  manner  of 
life  a  prairie  lad  led,  his  rough  experiences,  his  dan- 
gerous work  when  in  the  midst  of  a  stampeding, 
fear-crazed  herd  of  cattle,  his  lonely  vigil  when  serv- 
ing as  night  wrangler  for  the  camp,  watching  the 
horses  or  mules  while  they  fed,  and  defending  them 
against  the  attacks  of  wild  animals,  or,  it  might  be 
horse  thieves  with  a  red  skin.  How  Cuthbert  hung 
breathlessly  upon  every  word!  This  was  what  he 
had  long  yearned  to  experience ;  and  now  that  there 
seemed  a  fair  chance  of  his  being  gradually  intro- 
duced to  the  characters  constituting  the  drama  of 
ranch  and  range,  the  old  enthusiasm  leaped  up  anew. 

In  imagination  he  scoured  the  limitless  prairie  on 
the  fleetest  of  bronchos,  shied  his  trusty  rope 
through  the  air,  singling  out  his  victim  and  bring- 
ing him  down  with  unerring  precision,  fought  the 
wild  prairie  fire,  breasted  the  fierce  blizzard  in  the 
effort  to  save  the  stunned  and  starving  cattle — all 
these  and  more  he  had  read  about,  and  now  had 
painted  for  him  in  plain  but  forcible  language  by 
one  who,  though  but  a  stripling  like  himself,  had 
passed  through  the  checkered  career  of  herdsman, 
wrangler  and  cowboy. 

There  were  other  events  even  less  pleasant,  of 
which  Karl  said  little — of  desperate  battles  with  In- 
dians on  their  periodical  raids  or  encounters  with 


Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire.  21 

the  "bad  men"  of  the  border,  who  bow  to  no  law 
save  force. 

These  things  Karl  kept  in  the  background,  believ- 
ing the  other  would  in  due  time  have  experiences 
of  his  own  that  would  introduce  him  to  such  scenes. 

Long  they  sat  there. 

How  changed  everything  seemed,  now  that  he 
had  a  stanch  and  true  comrade  at  his  side!  The 
blackness  of  the  night  was  less  fearsome,  the  soli- 
tude had  no  terrors,  and  he  could  even  listen  to  the 
distant,  long-drawn,  melancholy  howl  of  the  fierce 
prairie  wolf  without  a  single  quiver. 

At  last  Karl's  eyes  began  to  close  in  spite  of  him- 
self. 

"Guess  I  must  be  done  up,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 
"It's  good  to  have  somebody  like  you  to  talk  to,  but 
I've  been  riding  since  dawn  and  I  reckon  I'd  go  to 
sleep  in  the  middle  of  my  story  if  I  started  to  tell 
you  another." 

"They'll  keep,  Karl,"  said  Cuthbert.  "I  could 
listen  to  you  all  night,  but  I  know  you're  pretty 
tired." 

"That's  what  I  am,"  responded  Karl.  "Let's  turn 
in,  then.  Buckskin  can  bear  us  both  in  the  morning ; 
and  trust  him  to  run  us  up  against  the  freighters' 
caravan  on  the " 

But  Karl's  tired  eyelids  slumbering  fell,  and 
stretching  himself  out  at  full  length,  he  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  just. 

There  seemed  no  reason  why  Cuthbert  should  not 
drop  into  sleep  as  easily  as  his  wearied  companion, 
but  somehow  time  drifted  on,  and  while  his  eyes 
were  shut  his  brain  was  busy  with  a  thousand 
thoughts. 

It  was  not  the  past  so  much  as  the  future  that  en- 
gaged his  mind,  though  there  were  a  few  things  in 
his  career  that  came  up  now  and  again  to  cause 
more  or  less  anxiety. 


22  Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire. 

What  Karl  had  told  him  so  graphically  had  in 
reality  fired  his  imagination  and  killed  the  desire  for 
sleep  which  his  tired  body  demanded. 

It  must  have  been  long  after  midnight. 

Cuthbert  sat  up  with  more  or  less  impatience  be- 
cause sleep  refused  him  the  sweet  boon  he  craved. 

He  rubbed  his  hot  eyes,  and  looked  around. 

The  fire  had  gone  out,  and  yet  it  was  not  dark  as 
before. 

This  surprised  him  at  first,  but  he  quickly  decided 
that  the  old  battered  moon  must  be  rising.  Had  he 
stopped  to  reason  a  moment  it  must  have  struck 
him  as  a  little  incongruous  that  for  once  this  steady, 
heavenly  luminary  had  taken  a  notion  to  rise  in  the 
west. 

The  moaning  of  the  wind  had  increased  to  a  dull 
roar,  and  yet  the  cottonwoods  did  not  appear  to  be 
lashing  with  its  violence. 

Karl's  horse  was  stamping  and  whinnying  at  his 
tether. 

"Seems  to  me,"  said  Cuthbert,  "there  is  some- 
thing out  of  the  ordinary  in  the  general  condition 
of  things — the  very  atmosphere  is  lacking  in  the 
chill  that  this  hour  of  the  night  always  brings — or 
I'm  dreaming." 

He  shook  Karl,  glad  to  have  some  one  whose  fa- 
miliarity with  the  signs  of  the  prairie  would  master 
the  situation. 

Apparently  Karl  had  not  yet  entirely  overcome 
the  boyish  propensity  of  deep-seated  reluctance  to 
leave  the  land  of  dreams. 

"What  is  it?"  he  muttered,  drowsily. 

"The  moon's  risen,  and  I  reckon  we're  going  to 
have  a  storm,"  said  Cuthbert. 

Then  Karl  sat  up. 

Sleep  was  gone  from  his  eyes  in  a  twinkling.  He 
heard  the  uneasy  actions  of  his  horse,  caught  the 
peculiar  roaring,  hollow  sound  away  off  to  windward, 


Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire.  23 

saw  the  yellow-red  glow  that  was  lighting  up  the 
heavens  as  no  harvest  moon  ever  could  illuminate 
them,  and  with  a  snort  of  alarm  sprang  to  his  feet. 

Cuthbert  knew  then  and  there  some  good  cause 
for  action  had  arisen,  but  he  did  not  comprehend 
the  whole  terrible  significance  of  the  truth  until  his 
companion  clasped  his  arm  and  half  led,  half 
dragged  him  to  the  edge  of  the  motte  facing  the 
west. 

Then  he  was  simply  appalled  by  the  weird  and  un- 
canny spectacle  that  burst  upon  his  view — the  whole 
horizon  as  far  as  the  sight  could  reach  seemed  to  be 
on  fire,  and  the  strange,  roaring  sound  he  had 
listened  to  as  the  approach  of  a  storm  was  a  secret 
no  longer. 

"That's  the  moon  that  rises  in  the  west!"  cried 
Karl,  sarcastically. 

"A  prairie  on  fire!"  gasped  Cuthbert. 

"Yes;  ain't  it  a  grand  and  terrible  sight?  But  this 
is  no  time  for  talk — we've  got  to  do  some  tall  riding 
right  away  if  we  want  to  have  a  chance  to  see  day- 
light again.  Come !" 

How  steadily  he  spoke  in  the  face  of  a  peril  that 
threatened  death!  Cuthbert  had  admired  him  be- 
fore, but  now  he  felt  something  even  stronger  for 
the  lad  whose  spirit  could  not  be  daunted  by  even 
such  an  impending  calamity. 

Karl  gave  his  orders  coolly,  but  quickly,  for  sec- 
onds were  precious  at  such  a  time. 

It  seemed  hardly  a  minute  ere  they  were  at  the 
side  of  the  snorting  horse,  Karl  running  the  trailing 
lariat  through  his  hands  until  he  reached  the  fright- 
ened animal,  Cuthbert  coming  just  behind  with  the 
cowboy  saddle  and  paraphernalia. 

"Sorry  for  you,  Buckskin,  my  boy,  but  there's  no 
escape.  You've  got  to  bear  double  this  night,  and 
let  out  every  kink  at  that  or  we're  all  goners  for 


24  Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire. 

sure.  So,  there,  steady,  boy.  Look  sharp,  comrade 
— behind  me — quick!" 

Fortunately  the  Virginia  lad  was  a  fair  horseman 
— at  least  he  had  been  considered  such  in  his  old 
home,  though  when  he  saw  cowboys  ride  he  knew 
he  had  much  to  learn. 

He  scrambled  up  behind  Karl,  who  had  just  coiled 
his  rope  on  the  saddle  horn. 

"Hold  tight  to  me — we're  off!"  shouted  the  latter. 

The  buckskin  horse  shot  away  like  the  wind,  and 
apparently  unconscious  as  yet  of  the  fact  that  he  so 
gallantly  bore  a  double  burden,  fear  gave  him  addi- 
tional strength  and  that  crackling  roar  in  the  rear 
served  as  no  other  goad  would  have  done. 

Surely  Cuthbert  was  having  a  speedy  introduc- 
tion to  the  perils  that  menace  the  prairie  traveler. 

At  least  he  had  never  experienced  a  ride  that  bore 
any  comparison  with  that  mad  gallop. 

It  was  with  considerable  difficulty  he  managed  to 
maintain  his  seat,  and  he  shuddered  to  think  what 
the  consequences  must  be  should  the  horse  break 
through  into  a  gopher  hole. 

Only  the  sagacity  of  Buckskin  stood  between 
them  and  a  catastrophe. 

Karl  maintained  his  coolness  in  the  face  of  dan- 
ger, a  characteristic  that  becomes  second  nature 
with  cowboys,  constantly  finding  themselves  in  tight 
places. 

He  knew  what  course  he  had  laid  out  and  just 
how  much  of  a  chance  they  had  of  escaping  from  the 
fiery  terror  that  boomed  along  in  pursuit. 

"I'd  like  to  stop  and  look  at  it,"  said  Cuthbert, 
twisting  his  head  around  to  see  what  the  spectacle 
was  like.  There  was  a  dreadful  fascination  about  it 
he  could  not  explain — the  lurid  heavens,  the  leaping 
flames,  the  clouds  of  smoke  bearing  myriads  of  fiery 
sparks  which  started  miniature  conflagrations  in  the 


Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire.  25 

grass  beyond,  to  be  swallowed  up  in  turn  by  the 
great  avalanche  of  flame. 

"Better  not  pull  up,"  said  Karl,  grimly;  "that  is, 
if  you  want  to  live  to  tell  the  tale." 

Buckskin  was  doing  his  noblest,  and  Karl  had  no 
need  to  use  the  stinging  "quirt"  that  dangled  from 
his  left  wrist — there  is  no  lash  equal  to  that  of  fear. 

Still  the  fiery  pursuer  gained,  for  the  wind  had 
increased  to  more  than  ten  miles  an  hour  and  was 
whipping  up  the  flames  unmercifully. 

The  heavy  load  crippled  the  horse,  already  hard 
used  on  the  previous  day. 

What  wild  exhilaration  in  such  a  ride  when  life 
and  death  lie  in  the  balance! 

Cuthbert  felt  his  nerves  thrill  with  the  tension — he 
seemed  to  have  entered  the  arena  of  western  life 
with  a  bound,  and  though  his  introduction  had  been 
almost  savage,  it  at  least  promised  to  launch  him 
upon  the  sea  of  experience  without  loss  of  time. 

He  could  feel  every*  muscular  movement  of  the 
brave  little  broncho  under  him,  and  experienced  that 
feeling  of  pride  which  comes  to  a  true  horseman 
when  his  steed  strains  every  nerve  to  accomplish  the 
race. 

Buckskin  was  running  for  his  life  now. 

The  aspect  in  their  rear  became  constantly  more 
terrifying,  the  closer  it  drew. 

Karl  had  not  as  yet  said  one  word  save  to  occa- 
sionally shout  encouragement  to  his  overworked 
horse,  but  even  the  tenderfoot  knew  he  was  aiming 
for  some  particular  spot,  to  reach  which  meant 
safety. 

To  his  mind  the  chances  were  rather  in  favor  of 
disaster,  yet  somehow  he  had  learned  to  place  great 
confidence  in  the  stanch  buckskin  horse  and  his 
able  rider. 

The  novelty  of  the  situation,  together  with  his 
own  fears,  forced  him  to  at  length  ask  Karl  what 


26  Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire. 

they  were  aiming  for;  whereupon  the  other  pointed 
to  a  dark  line  in  the  advance  and  declared  it  to  be 
the  river,  which  would,  with  its  green  trees  and 
watery  barrier,  doubtless  check  the  rush  of  the 
flames. 

All  they  wanted  was  time  enough  to  gain  this  oasis 
in  the  desert. 

The  heat  had  become  almost  unbearable,  espe- 
cially to  Cuthbert,  whose  unprotected  back  caught 
it  the  most. 

As  they  drew  nearer  the  stream  the  horse  seemed 
to  exert  himself  still  more,  as  though  scenting  the 
cool  water,  and  the  greenhorn  began  to  have  re- 
newed hopes. 

Still,  it  was  a  close  call,  and  he  never  saw  the 
time  when  he  felt  any  desire  to  repeat  the  experience 
— the  slightest  mishap  to  Buckskin,  and  doom  was 
certain. 

"Bend  low!"  suddenly  yelled  Karl. 

And  it  was  lucky  Cuthbert  obeyed  the  command, 
for  in  another  minute  they  were  dashing  in  among 
the  leafy  branches  of  the  trees  bordering  the  river. 

None  too  soon  did  this  occur,  for  the  flying 
sparks  had  already  commenced  to  rain  upon  them, 
and  the  carousal  of  fire  was  apparently  just  at  their 
heels. 

How  blessed  the  relief  as  Buckskin,  with  a  shrill 
neigh,  dashed  into  the  cool  waters ! 

Both  boys  threw  themselves  from  his  back  and 
soused  their  heads  under  to  emerge  dripping  with 
moisture,  but  relieved  of  the  fever  that  had  com- 
menced to  riot  in  their  veins. 

"That's  the  first  time  in  your  life,  Cuthbert,  when 
you  took  a  ducking  thankfully,"  said  Karl,  with  a 
grin. 

"Guess  that's  right,"  replied  Cuthbert,  as  he  made 
a  feeble  attempt  to  repeat  Karl's  smile. 

Standing  there  up  to  their  waists   in   the   cool 


Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire.  27 

waters  of  the  Powder  River,  they  gazed  upon  the 
sublime  spectacle  presented  when  the  on-sweeping 
prairie  fire  bucked  up  against  this  obstacle  to  its 
further  progress,  and  Karl  vouched  for  the  fact  that 
many  a  conflagration  had  this  same  old  river  turned 
back  in  the  days  that  were  gone. 

The  roar  decreased  in  volume,  the  awful  blaze  be- 
gan to  die  out,  with  here  and  there  a  dead  tree 
flashing  up  like  a  gigantic  torch. 

But  the  fire  had  met  its  death  and  sullenly  ac- 
quiesced in  its  destiny,  since  the  breeze  had  failed 
to  carry  the  sparks  across  the  green  belt  marking 
the  river's  course. 

All  this  the  newcomer  saw  with  wondering  eyes, 
never  to  forget  what  danger  lies  in  a  careless  spark 
upon  the  billowy  plains  at  a  certain  time  of  year. 

"Come,"  said  Karl,  at  length,  "we  must  ford  the 
river  while  we  can  see.  The  other  shore  will  give 
us  a  camp.  For  one,  I  haven't  had  enough  sleep, 
and  I  kinder  reckon  poor  old  Buckskin  feels  like  he 
could  drop." 

The  cowboy  always  thinks  of  his  horse,  nor  can 
this  be  wondered  at  when  that  animal  means  every- 
thing to  him,  even  as  the  fleet  steed  of  the  desert 
does  to  the  Arab  or  Bedouin. 

So  they  cautiously  made  their  way  across,  Karl 
on  the  watch  against  quicksands,  for  the  river  was 
notoriously  treacherous  in  this  regard. 

Thanks  to  Karl's  sagacity,  they  reached  the  op- 
posite bank  in  safety,  and  not  being  very  particular, 
threw  themselves  upon  the  ground  to  rest. 

Presently,  however,  Karl  thought  best  to  make  a 
fire  at  which  they  could  dry  their  clothes  after  a 
fashion,  for  he  remembered  that  his  companion  had 
never  spent  nights  on  the  range  tending  cattle  in 
the  midst  of  tropical  downpours,  with  only  an  old 
yellow  "slicker"  for  protection,  and  slept  comfort- 


28  Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire. 

ably  in  a  pool  of  water  that  oozed  from  his  gar- 
ments. 

Before  lying  down,  Karl  went  to  see  Buckskin, 
and  Cuthbert  could  hear  him  talking  affectionately 
to  the  weary  horse,  as  he  hobbled  him  where  the 
grass  was  greenest. 

This  time  Cuthbert  slept  despite  the  new  excite- 
ment that  had  come  upon  them — tired  Nature  de- 
manded repose,  and  even  his  heated  brain  had  to 
give  in. 

When  he  awoke  the  sun  was  shining,  Karl  was 
busy  at  the  fire  making  a  limited  breakfast  as  only 
a  cowboy  knows  how,  and  the  odor  of  fragrant 
coffee  permeated  the  air. 

Cuthbert  was  up  in  a  jiffy. 

"Hi  there,  Karl,"  he  called  out,  gayly,  "what  can 
I  do  to  help  the  good  cause  along?" 

"Lots!"  said  Karl  promptly,  and  he  set  his  new 
chum  to  work. 

The  simple  breakfast,  eaten  under  such  singular 
conditions,  tasted  fine,  and  Cuthbert's  spirits  arose 
to  greater  heights  than  before. 

This  was  the  free  life  for  which  he  had  so  long 
yearned,  and  he  felt  sure  he  would  enjoy  being 
Karl's  comrade. 

Buckskin  apparently  did  not  like  the  idea  of  again 
bearing  a  double  burden;  perhaps  it  brought  to 
his  equine  mind  the  startling  events  associated  with 
his  last  experience  in  that  line;  but  Karl  had  the 
master  hand,  and  no  broncho  that  lived  could  baffle 
his  desire. 

Accordingly  they  mounted  and  were  off  at  a  very 
moderate  pace. 

Karl  had  little  doubt  as  to  his  ability  to  discover 
the  freighters'  caravan,  which  he  knew  must  have 
crossed  the  river  at  the  usual  ford,  and  reaching  this 
he  showed  his  companion  the  deep  ruts  made  by  the 
wheels  of  the  great  wagons  drawn  by  mule  power. 


Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire.  29 

After  that  it  was  easy,  and  about  noon  they  came 
up  with  the  caravan  that  had  halted  to  rest  their 
cattle  for  an  hour  or  so. 

Cuthbert  was  eager  to  learn  whether  his  treach- 
erous cayuse  had,  with  the  wonderful  instinct  of  his 
kind,  made  the  camp,  and  was  delighted  to  learn 
that  this  was  so. 

He  had  promised  Bob  a  good  thrashing  to  pay 
for  his  miserable  trick,  but  the  animal  greeted  him 
with  a  glad  whinny  that  quite  disarmed  his  master. 

Moreover,  Cuthbert  was  now  of  the  opinion  that 
the  fault  was  wholly  his  own;  since  meeting  the 
young  range  rider  he  had  learned  more  points  in 
connection  with  bronchos  than  he  had  ever  dreamed 
of  in  his  philosophy,  and  chief  of  all,  never  to  trust 
them  wholly. 

Preparations  for  leaving  the  caravan  were  soon 
completed.  Karl  was  pleased  to  discover  the  small 
amount  of  goods  he  had  to  pack  on  Bob's  unwilling 
back,  for  truth  to  tell,  the  prairie  boy  had  been 
haunted  by  a  terrible  fear  lest  his  new-found  friend 
would  produce  a  Saratoga  trunk  and  stagger  them 
about  its  transportation. 

Many  of  the  "mule  skinners"  knew  the  cowboy, 
and  greeted  him  with  rough  enthusiasm,  so  that  evi- 
dently Karl  was  well  liked  among  the  teamsters  of 
the  freight  trail. 

He  had  a  genial  word  or  a  joke  for  every  one, 
and  Cuthbert  flattered  himself  that  he  had  been 
fortunate  indeed  to  make  so  warm  a  friend  out  of  a 
character  so  universally  commended. 

A  bite  of  lunch  and  they  were  off,  just  es  the 
teamsters  were  shouting  and  swearing  to  get  their 
refractory  mules  in  motion. 

Cuthbert,  seated  once  more  in  his  own  saddle,  in- 
stead of  hanging  upon  a  horse's  withers,  felt  light- 
hearted  enough  to  shout.  His  ambition,  laughed 
at  by  Eastern  college  mates,  was  in  a  fair  way  of 


)o  Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire 

being  realized,  the  air  seemed  bracing  and  all  Na- 
ture joyous.  Soon  he  would  see,  and  perhaps  join 
in  the  many  sports  and  labors  of  these  wild  "prairie 
skimmers,"  whose  home  is  upon  the  back  of  a  buck- 
ing broncho,  and  who  welcome  danger  for  the  in- 
toxication it  brings  to  the  nervous  system. 

How  good  it  felt  to  handle  his  Winchester  again, 
and  what  vows  he  made  to  utilize  it  upon  every  oc- 
casion whenever  a  gray  wolf  was  concerned,  for 
somehow  the  chivalrous  spirit  of  his  ancestors 
seemed  to  have  been  humbled  in  the  dust  by  the 
affair  of  the  lone  camp,  and  he  could  never  see  one 
o  those  animals  without  an  ardent  desire  to  wipe 
out  the  insult. 

Karl  bore  away  toward  the  region  where  the 
ranch  upon  which  he  was  employed  was  situated; 
they  would  have  to  do  good  time  if  they  hoped  to 
reach  it  by  sundown. 

But  these  prairie  steeds  are  capable  of  covering 
an  incredible  number  of  miles  within  a  limited  time, 
and  their  course  was  as  straight  as  the  crow  flies. 

To  a  child  of  the  prairie  all  signs  are  as  plain 
print,  and  Cuthbert  was  as  deeply  interested  in  and 
lost  in  admiration  of  the  marvelous  manner  in  which 
Karl  could  tell  in  a  twinkling  just  how  long  a  time 
had  elapsed  since  antelope  made  a  trail  the  boys  dis- 
covered, as  Karl,  on  his  part,  was  filled  with  awe 
and  envy  over  the  knowledge  his  young  college 
friend  showed  of  books  and  the  wide  world. 

It  began  to  appear  as  though  fortune  had  brought 
them  together  in  this  strange  manner  in  order  that 
they  might  be  useful  to  each  other. 

The  acquaintance  had  begun  under  such  peculiar 
and  trying  conditions  that  it  had  already  passed  the 
preliminary  stage  and  was  advancing  with  leaps  and 
bounds  to  a  closer  relation  that  would  make  them 
chums. 

Each  discovered  in  the  other  certain  elements  to 


Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire.  31 

arouse  his  admiration,  and  was  eager  to  exchange 
what  he  knew  for  those  things  his  heart  had  yearned 
after. 

Cuthbert's  cayuse  proved  to  be  in  good  trim,  and 
the  already  half-fagged  Buckskin  was  forced  to  do 
his  prettiest  in  order  to  keep  alongside  during  that 
sharp  gallop ;  but  the  little  fellow  was  made  of  stern 
stuff,  and  had  proved  his  mettle  on  the  previous 
night,  so  that  he  hung  on  with  the  pertinacity  of  a 
wolf  in  chase  of  its  wounded  quarry,  and  old  hunters 
declare  this  to  be  the  acme  of  doggedness. 

The  sun  hung  low  in  the  west  when  Karl  gave  a 
shout  that  betokened  satisfaction,  and  turning  to 
Cuthbert,  he  exclaimed: 

"There,  my  boy,  how's  that?" 

"Why,  what  on  earth  are  we  up  against?"  said 
Cuthbert,  gazing  curiously  ahead.  "There's  a  rough 
looking  one-story  building  and  a  heap  of  other  odd- 
looking  outhouses.  I  guess  that's  what  they  are." 

Karl  laughed. 

"Keep  on  looking,  Cuthbert,  and  you'll  see  jest 
what  we've  struck  in  about  a  minute." 

Then  Cuthbert  detected  moving  figures,  men  on 
horseback  and  groups  of  cattle  that  were  being 
rounded  up  for  some  purpose,  perhaps  shipment 
East  in  charge  of  trusty  herders,  to  the  nearest  rail- 
road. 

Eagerly  the  tenderfoot  strained  his  eyes  while 
the  panorama  gradually  unfolded  more  and  more  as 
the  two  riders  swept  on  nearer  the  animated  scene, 
and  the  declining  sun  sent  his  quivering  red  shafts 
over  the  erstwhile  white  fleecy  clouds  until  the 
whole  heavens  seemed  ablaze. 

"By  Jove,  it  must  be  a  ranch!"  exclaimed  Cuth- 
bert. 

It  was  his  first  glimpse  of  a  real,  genuine  cattle 
ranch,  and  naturally  he  took  the  keenest  interest  in 
everything  connected  with  the  whole  affair. 


32  Chased  by  a  Prairie  Fire. 

In  truth,  the  picture  as  seen  by  the  light  of  the 
dying  sun,  was  one  long  to  be  remembered — the 
whitewashed  buildings,  the  boundless,  flower-stud- 
ded prairie,  as  yet  unsullied  with  that  latest  triumph 
of  civilization,  the  barbed  wire  fence;  the  lowing 
herds  wending  their  way  toward  the  corral,  the  cir- 
cling cowboys  who  darted  thither  and  yon,  slapping 
with  their  hats  now  and  then  at  refractory  animals 
that  showed  a  disposition  to  kick  over  the  traces 
and  wander  off  by  themselves,  and  above  all  the 
glorious  heavens,  painted  as  no  cunning  hand  of 
man  could  ever  equal  on  canvas. 

Yes,  it  was  an  introduction  to  Sunset  Ranch  which 
Cuthbert  would  long  remember — it  fulfilled  his  wild- 
est dreams  and  opened  to  him  a  new  life  where  the 
adventurous  spirit  within  him  could  find  such  as 
was  denied  in  the  East. 

As  they  came  galloping  up,  loud  voices  greeted 
Karl  in  a  hearty  manner,  and  Cuthbert  knew  his 
young  friend  was  "hail  fellow  well  met,"  and  a  favor- 
ite with  Kelly's  herders. 

He  could  not  but  notice  the  peculiar  glances  cast 
in  his  direction,  and  knew  many  a  rough  joke  would 
be  cracked  among  these  free-souled  riders  over  the 
advent  of  the  tenderfoot  with  his  tailor-made  suit  of 
corduroy;  but  all  that  could  be  endured,  for  Karl 
was  his  friend  and  Karl  had  assured  him  that  in  the 
main  the  cow  punchers  were  a  good-natured  set ;  and 
besides,  the  Eastern  lad  was  grimly  determined  to 
make  himself  at  home  as  one  of  them  from  the  start. 

Now  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  lowing  herds, 
and  rode  up  to  the  porch  of  the  long,  low  house, 
where  Mr.  Kelly  and  his  wife  stood  waiting  with 
smiles  to  receive  them. 

And  this,  then,  was  the  way  the  tenderfoot  came 
to  Sunset  Ranch. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WILD     LIFE    ON    THE    RANCH. 

Many  were  the  novel  experiences  in  store  for 
young  Lee  upon  the  great  cattle  ranch — never  a  day 
went  by  that  he  failed  to  learn  some  new  trick  con- 
nected with  the  wonderful  prairie  life. 

Work  there  was  in  plenty,  and  be  it  said  to  his 
credit  he  did  not  shun  it  as  many  boys  would  have 
done ;  but  there  were  also  hours  of  recreation,  made 
more  enjoyable  by  the  labor  with  which  they  had 
been  preceded. 

His  soul,  long  cramped,  cribbed  and  confined 
within  the  walls  of  college  and  metropolis,  seemed 
to  expand  beneath  this  genial  Dakota  sky,  and  he 
even  found  a  strange  pleasure  in  standing  watch 
over  the  horses  when  serving  his  time  as  Kelly's 
night  wrangler. 

The  star-studded  sky,  the  whispering  winds,  the 
perfume  of  flowers  and  the  sense  of  solitude  com- 
bined to  make  a  grandeur  that  gave  him  satisfaction 
beyond  expression. 

And  there  was  danger,  too. 

Wolves  hovered  around  when  he  watched  the 
sheep  with  their  many  tender  lambs,  and  the  utmost 
vigilance  was  required  on  the  part  of  the  herder  to 
discover  and  slay  these  cunning  wanderers. 

By  degrees  he  learned,  under  the  guidance  of 
Karl,  how  to  detect  any  uneasiness  among  his  keen- 
scented  charges,  and  about  where  to  look  for 
trouble. 

Probably  the  Virginia  lad  never  in  all  his  past  life 
experienced  more  savage  joy  than  came  to  him  one 
night  when  watching  a  bunch  of  sheep  that  had  been 
inclosed  in  a  rope  corral  and  left  to  his  charge. 


34  Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch. 

It  was  a  clear  night,  and  a  young  moon  hung  in 
the  western  sky,  giving  a  tender  light,  just  enough 
to  see  some  little  distance.  The  previous  night  it 
had  rained  and  Cuthbert  was  soaked  through  when 
he  came  into  camp,  so  that  he  felt  in  a  mood  to  fully 
enjoy  the  delights  of  this  occasion. 

It  was  about  this  time  he  began  to  discover  that 
the  sheep  showed  signs  of  restlessness — the  ewes 
with  their  young  lambs  crowded  to  leeward  while 
the  old  rams  sniffed  the  air,  and  pawed  the  soil  in  a 
defiant  manner. 

"There  isn't  the  faintest  sign  of  a  coming  storm, 
and  I  bet  the  danger  lies  in  some  four-footed  beast, 
hungry  for  spring  lamb,"  he  concluded. 

He  kept  as  cool  as  was  possible  under  the  con- 
ditions, though  conscious  of  the  fact  that  his  heart 
was  beating  like  a  trip-hammer;  and  remembering 
the  explicit  instructions  given  by  Karl,  began  to 
creep  to  windward,  as  it  was  evident  the  alarm  came 
from  that  quarter. 

Eagerly  he  strained  his  eyes  to  detect  any  moving 
creature,  and  his  Winchester  was  held  in  readiness 
for  instant  use. 

There  had  been  some  pretty  wild  talk  among  the 
riders  of  the  X  bar  X  outfit,  belonging  to  Kelly's 
ranch,  of  Indians  away  from  their  reservations  and 
driving  off  herds  from  the  most  isolated  grazing 
quarters,  which  news  was  circulated  through  herders 
and  cowboys  belonging  to  other  camps. 

Hence,  under  such  circumstances  it  was  not 
singular  that  the  tenderfoot,  as  yet  unable  to  dis- 
tinguish the  difference  in  signs  of  danger,  should 
let  imagination  run  riot  in  his  brain,  and  picture  a 
gang  of  thieving  Sioux  creping  up  to  stampede  his 
flock.  This  bare  possibility  was  not  a  pleasant  out- 
look, but  the  greenhorn  was  game  all  the  way 
through,  and  did  not  flinch  from  the  task  set  before 
him. 


\\i!d  Life  on  the  Ranch.  35 

By  degrees  he  worked  to  windward,  keeping 
close  to  the  rope  corral.  He  had  made  almost  half 
the  circuit  and  as  yet  discovered  nothing,  but  was 
not  in  the  least  disappointed,  for  the  racket  had  in- 
creased inside  the  corral,  the  rams  rattling  their 
horns  in  defiance  and  snorting  much  as  a  deer 
whistles  at  sight  of  danger,  while  some  of  the  fright- 
ened lambs  uttered  plaintive  cries,  as  if  recognizing 
the  fact  that  it  was  their  precious  selves  the  intruder 
wanted. 

Still  further  crept  the  herder;  his  eyes  had  be- 
come almost  like  those  of  a  cat,  and  he  was  able  to 
detect  many  things  that  might  have  escaped  ordi- 
nary vision. 

Then  came  victory — he  detected  a  movement  in 
the  down-trodden  grass,  as  though  some  crouching 
figure  crawled  stealthily  along  in  the  direction  of 
the  corral. 

"Whether  that  dusky  figure,"  said  Cuthbert  under 
his  breath,  "is  that  of  man  or  beast,  I'm  not  going 
to  attempt  to  decide ;  this  isn't  the  time  to  argue 
the  point;  but  this  infernal  creeper  threatens  the 
safety  of  my  charges,  and  incurs  the  penalty  of  his 
rashness." 

The  boy  made  ready  with  his  gun. 

It  was  not  a  long  shot,  though  the  conditions 
made  it  anything  but  a  sure  one. 

Whatever  the  crawler  might  be,  man  or  beast, 
some  suspicion  of  danger  had  arisen,  for  it  no 
longer  advanced,  but  crouched  there. 

Cuthbert  discovered  a  pair  of  luminous  eyes 
turned  in  his  quarter,  which  reminded  him  forcibly 
of  the  yellow  orbs  that  had  surrounded  his  lone 
camp-fire  when  he  was  lost  upon  the  prairie. 

The  recollection  gave  him  new  resolution. 

He  utilized  the  twin  orbs  as  a  target,  and  let  fly 
without  wincing  a  particle,  as  had  been  his  wont  in 
earlier  days. 


36  Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch. 

Then  there  was  a  commotion,  indeed — he  saw  a 
long  bodied  animal  skulk  away  and  sent  another 
bullet  after  him,  though  probably  with  but  indiffer- 
ent success. 

When  the  herder  ran  forward  he  found  a  gaunt 
gray  wolf  kicking  his  last,  proving  how  true  had 
been  his  first  shot. 

A  sense  of  exhilaration  filled  his  young  heart  as 
he  stood  over  his  fierce  quarry  and  noted  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  turned-down  marauder. 

This  shot  in  the  night  seemed  to  wipe  out  much 
of  the  sting  that  had  annoyed  him  ever  since  that 
other  occasion  when,  but  for  the  opportune  arrival 
of  the  young  range  rider,  he  must  have  fared  badly. 

So  experiences  multiplied,  and  Cuthbert  by  de- 
grees learned  the  first  principles  of  a  cattleman's 
success — to  depend  wholly  upon  his  own  resources 
in  any  emergency  and  never  be  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 

No  wonder  they  are  a  self-reliant  race,  and  make 
glorious  fighters  in  war,  such  as  the  Rough  Riders 
Wood  and  Roosevelt  took  to  Santiago ! 

Karl  was  Cuthbert's  model  in  everything. 

Now,  according  to  his  own  mind,  Karl  was  far 
from  perfection,  making  occasional  mistakes  which 
were  frankly  confessed;  but  Cuthbert  believed  him 
faultless  so  far  as  a  knowledge  of  prairie  love  and 
cowboy  life  was  concerned,  and  sighed  for  the  day 
when  his  own  clumsy  manner  of  reaching  results 
would  give  way  to  the  finished  nonchalance  through 
which  Karl  attained  the  same  end — what  was  an  ef- 
fort for  him  was  perfectly  natural  to  the  prairie  lad. 

By  degrees  Cuthbert  could  ride  a  fairly  active 
broncho,  with  only  a  "hackamore"  about  the  beast's 
jaw  in  place  of  a  bridle ;  he  experienced  that  delight 
in  conquering  his  first  unruly  and  bucking  steed  that 
comes  to  the  true  horseman,  and  without  which 
there  could  be  no  hope  for  him  as  a  cowboy. 

Then  he  diligently  went  to  work  with  the  rope, 


Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch.  37 

and  managed  to  master  its  intricacies,  so  that  in  due 
time  he  could  throw  it  over  his  horse  when  he 
wanted  a  mount. 

These  things  pleased  him  mightily — he  was  taking 
on  a  coat  of  tan  under  sun  and  wind,  while  his  frame 
became  more  rugged  with  the  life  of  exposure  he 
led. 

As  yet  Karl  had  not  been  wholly  taken  into  his 
confidence,  though  the  prairie  boy  began  to  suspect 
that  it  might  be  some  other  cause  than  mere  love 
of  adventure  that  brought  Cuthbert  Lee  so  far  away 
from  his  Eastern  home. 

Some  time  in  the  near  future,  perhaps,  when  they 
sat  together  under  the  friendly  stars  and  watched 
the  great  flock  of  sheep  belonging  to  the  famous 
Kelly  ranch,  Cuthbert  might  in  a  burst  of  confidence 
open  his  heart  to  him  and  relate  the  circumstances 
connected  with  his  past. 

Above  all  things,  Cuthbert  delighted  to  sit  with 
the  cowboys  when  the  day's  work  was  over,  and  hear 
them  relate  their  amazing  experiences  with  the 
legion  of  dangers  that  beset  the  prairie  herdsman 
in  those  early  times. 

He  learned  how  to  separate  the  wheat  from  the 
chaff  in  these  stirring  yarns,  and  thus  found  a  way 
to  profit  through  the  experience  of  others.  In  the 
days  to  come  he  would,  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
be  able  to  accomplish  some  difficult  task  through 
having  had  a  solution  propounded  by  one  who  had 
run  up  against  the  same  difficulty  and  conquered  it. 

Thus  time  went  by. 

Cuthbert  appeared  to  be  one  of  the  boys — his 
tailor-made  corduroys  had  been  supplemented  with 
leather  "chaps,"  he  sported  a  wide  felt  hat  just  as 
saucily  as  the  next  one,  and  carried  a  quirt  attached 
to  his  left  wrist  when  driving  cattle,  the  proud  in- 
signia of  a  cowboy.  He  had  learned  to  hustle  with 
the  best  of  thenvand  few  indeed  among  Kelly's  men 


38  Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch. 

but  who  liked  the  Virginia  "kid"  for  his  good  na- 
ture. 

Every  day  brought  its  duties,  and  he  spent  most 
of  the  time  in  the  saddle,  acquiring  new  experience, 
now  riding  down  a  skulking  coyote  or  anon  waylay- 
ing antelope  and  gaining  a  shot  through  the  dex- 
terous use  of  a  red  rag,  which  excited  the  curiosity 
of  the  little  animals  and  drew  them  nearer  the  co- 
vert where  Cuthbert  and  his  Winchester  were  se- 
creted. 

There  came  a  time,  however,  when  the  peace  that 
reigned  over  Sunset  Ranch  became  a  thing  of  the 
past,  and  its  place  was  taken  by  a  new  excitement. 

It  happened  one  morning  that  a  rider  from  the 
Double  Cross  outfit  down  the  river  came  galloping 
up,  waving  his  arms  and  firing  his  gun  in  a  manner 
characteristic  of  cowboys  in  general  when  on  a  lark 
or  desirous  of  attracting  attention. 

Karl  and  his  friend  were  just  in  the  act  of  saddling 
up — each  had  taken  his  rope,  thrown  it  over  his 
horse  and  was  engaged  in  "cinching"  the  girths  (for 
the  cunning  animals  have  a  way  of  distending  their 
bellies  as  soon  as  they  feel  the  saddle  on  their  back, 
so  that  an  unwary  rider  who  might  think  he  had 
tightened  his  girth  would  find  the  saddle  slipping  to 
one  side  as  soon  as  he  mounted)  when  the  first  dis- 
tant shout  called  their  attention  to  the  fast  on-com- 
ing horseman. 

"Hello !  here's  trouble,"  said  Karl,  and  apparently 
there  was  a  little  ring  of  satisfaction  in  his  voice, 
while  his  clear  gray  eyes  lighted  up,  as  though  the 
prospect  of  a  break  in  the  steady  routine  of  every- 
day work,  which  had  not  the  charm  of  novelty  for 
him  it  possessed  with  young  Lee,  might  not  be  so 
very  distasteful. 

"What's  the  matter — too  much  liquor  and  on  the 
warpath?"  asked  the  tenderfoot,  who  had  seen  some 
peculiar  things  among  these  rough  and  ready  men 


Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch.  39 

of  the  border  and  had  learned  to  regret  their  weak 
points  even  while  ardently  admiring  their  many  ad- 
mirable qualities. 

"I  reckon  it  means  danger,"  said  Karl,  quietly. 

The  other  immediately  ran  the  gamut  of  such 
perils  as  might  threaten  a  prairie  cattle  ranch — cy- 
clone, fire,  an  Indian  foray,  the  presence  of  white 
outlaws  or  "bad  men" — which  of  these  could  it  be, 
he  wondered? 

Once  mounted,  the  two  boys  galloped  toward  the 
house,  near  which  all  hands  had  begun  to  gather  in 
anticipation  of  the  courier's  arrival. 

"It's  Old  Sile,"  said  Karl,  as  they  rode. 

Now  Cuthbert  had  heard  his  friend  speak  so  often 
of  this  sagacious  and  veteran  rider  of  the  cattle 
ranges  that  he  felt  a  genuine  thrill  of  pleasure  at  the 
prospect  of  meeting  one  who  had  led  such  a  check- 
ered career,  and  to  whom  all  the  cow  punchers  of 
the  whole  region  looked  up  to  as  a  man  from  whom 
the  best  of  them  might  on  occasions  secure  points. 

The  cowboy  was  a  man  well  along  in  years,  whose 
gaunt  frame  and  iron  jaws  spoke  of  indomitable 
energy — otherwise  he  did  not  differ  to  any  extent 
from  the  rest  of  the  gang. 

Cuthbert  saw  that  he  was  a  born  leader,  and  pos- 
sessed the  confidence  of  the  men,  some  of  whom 
undoubtedly  had  been  with  him  in  wild  forays  of  the 
past  when  the  cattle  stampeded  in  an  electric  storm, 
or  the  marauding  Indians  had  to  be  pursued  in  order 
to  rescue  the  stolen  herds. 

Yes,  they  knew  Old  Sile,  and  were  ready  to  follow 
his  lead  anywhere. 

Mr.  Kelly  hastened  to  meet  him  with  some  anx- 
iety on  his  face,  for  he  had  more  than  one  valuable 
bunch  of  cattle  feeding  on  the  range,  which  must 
excite  the  cupidity  of  prowling  bands  of  dusky 
thieves. 

"What's  in  the  wind?"  he  asked — such  men  do 


40  Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch. 

not  waste  words  when  unknown  danger  seems  in 
the  air. 

"Indians  off  their  reservation,  and  lookin'  for 
trouble,"  grunted  the  newcomer,  who,  having  ridden 
fast  and  far,  was  more  or  less  winded. 

"Squaws  with  them  or  not?"  asked  the  ranchman 
— for  when  on  a  hunt  the  red  man  of  the  plains  takes 
his  family  along,  but  never  when  going  on  the  war- 
path or  bent  upon  a  cattle-stealing  raid. 

"Nary  a  squaw  seen — all  bucks  and  rigged  out 
strictly  for  biz,"  came  the  reply. 

At  this,  looks  were  exchanged  among  the  em- 
ployees of  X  bar  X  ranch;  it  meant  a  change  of 
venue,  that  their  work  was  evidently  cut  out  for 
them,  and  that  it  would  be  of  quite  a  different  nature 
from  the  humdrum  routine  of  the  last  few  weeks. 

Among  such  wild  spirits  it  could  only  be  expected 
that  a  prospect  like  this  would  arouse  more  or  less 
enthusiasm. 

A  brush  with  the  Indians  meant  danger,  and  that 
is  what  the  cowboy  enjoys  above  all  things. 

"Say,  where'd  ye  meet  'em  ?"  asked  the  ranchman. 

"Down  river,"  said  Old  Sile,  laconically,  with  a 
nod  of  his  head. 

"Many?" 

"Enough  to  wipe  out  Sunset.  Heard  as  how 
these  Sioux  fellers  was  makin'  trouble  with  the  cow- 
boys of  Lone  Star  and  Double  Cross  outfits." 

"Ye  did?" 

"Yep;  and  they  made  toward  the  range.  Guess 
they've  an  eye  to  scooting  with  some  of  the  cattle 
quartered  thar." 

All  was  excitement  in  the  camp,  but  presently 
order  came  out  of  chaos. 

Kelly  was  a  man  of  great  presence  of  mind. 

This  was  not  the  first  time,  by  long  odds,  that  in 
his  experience  as  a  ranchman  he  had  been  called 


Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch.  41 

upon  to  outwit  such  wily  and  desperate  marauders 
at  their  game  of  grab. 

Buffaloes  were  still  to  be  found  by  zealous  hunt- 
ers, and  for  one  he  did  not  mean  that  these  thieving 
Sioux  should  lay  in  their  winter  stock  of  meat  from 
his  herd  if  prompt  and  energetic  measures  could 
prevent  it. 

He  consulted  a  few  minutes  with  Old  Sile,  and 
then  gave  his  orders  in  a  clear  voice,  naming  the 
men  and  hustling  them  away  upon  the  duty  to  which 
they  were  appointed. 

Some  were  sent  to  look  after  a  bunch  of  cattle 
known  to  be  feeding  at  a  certain  point  about  eight 
miles  away,  with  orders  to  drive  them  toward  the 
ranch. 

Another  gang  went  to  round  up  the  troop  of  sad- 
dle horses,  which  might  prove  objects  of  interest  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Indians. 

Thus  half  a  dozen  parties  shot  out  from  the  ranch 
and  scoured  the  plain. 

To  Cuthbert's  intense  pleasure,  Old  Sile  volun- 
tarily attached  himself  to  the  little  group  among 
which  Karl  and  himself  were  numbered.  It  may 
have  been  mere  accident  that  caused  him  to  do  so, 
though  his  attachment  for  Karl  was  well  known — 
perhaps  the  presence  of  two  "kids"  in  this  allotment 
caused  him  to  think  he  could  sort  of  balance  matters 
by  casting  his  lot  with  them. 

Cuthbert  had  difficulty  in  realizing  that  he  was  al- 
ready upon  the  warpath,  adjudged  capable  of  bear- 
ing arms  in  a  desperate  affair  of  this  kind  when  the 
cattle  had  to  be  rounded  up  and  swept  in  toward  the 
ranch,  perhaps  with  the  hostile  Indians  bearing 
down  upon  them. 

His  blood  seemed  surcharged  with  fire,  and  leaped 
through  his  veins  like  molten  lava — it  was  far  differ- 
ent to  his  former  experiences,  which  had  been  wholly 
confined  to  fur,  fin  and  feather.  Now  he  was  to  be 


42  Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch. 

pitted  against  wily  human  beings,  those  red  men  of 
whom  he  had  heard  so  much  and  seen  so  little. 

Still,  some  of  the  enthusiasm  that  marked  the  cow- 
boy band  had  taken  possession  of  him,  and  he  was 
quite  as  ready  to  plunge  into  the  affair  as  the  most 
dare-devil  among  the  lot. 

So  they  galloped  on  in  the  early  morning. 

Cuthbert  tried  to  remember  all  Karl  had  told  him 
about  the  Sioux. 

Few  could  give  more  points  than  the  young  range 
rider — he  had  spent  many  moons  among  the  tepees 
of  the  Sioux,  had  wrestled  with  the  Indian  lads, 
beaten  them  at  rifle  practice,  won  races  on  horse- 
back and  lost  them,  too,  and  had  even  gone  on  their 
annual  hunt  in  search  of  meat  to  be  dried  into  pem- 
mican  for  winter  use. 

Old  Sile  had  said  the  band  originally  numbered 
some  sixty  young  bucks,  though,  no  doubt,  it  had 
been  ere  now  broken  into  many  fractions,  the  better 
to  drive  off  cattle  and  confuse  the  herders. 

Hence  they  might  expect  to  encounter  only  one 
of  these  smaller  bands,  but  even  then  the  probability 
was  the  marauders  would  outnumber  them  three  to 
one. 

Cuthbert  watched  the  old  ranger  almost  con- 
stantly— every  move  of  the  veteran  had  a  deep  sig- 
nificance to  his  wondering  eyes. 

And  yet  it  might  be  set  down  as  assured  that  what 
Sile  did  not  know  about  prairie  lore  was  hardly 
worth  acquiring. 

He  was  the  leather  stocking  of  the  cattle  range, 
and  it  would,  in  truth,  require  the  skill  and  pen  of  a 
Fennimore  Cooper  to  do  his  quaint  character  full 
justice. 

Cuthbert  was  only  an  amateur  at  reading  human 
nature,  but  even  he  could  readily  see  the  strength 
there  was  back  of  those  piercing  eyes,  so  like  the  un- 
flinching orbs  of  the  eagle,  that  dare  look  even  into 


Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch.  43 

the  glowing  sun,  and  as  his  acquaintance  with  old 
Sile  deepened  he  discovered  new  traits  to  admire — 
that  the  plainsman  who  had  laughed  the  Indians  to 
scorn  as  he  stood  at  the  torture  post,  with  a  bravado 
equal  to  the  most  reckless  among  them,  or  engage 
in  a  single-handed  fight  with  a  grizzly  bear,  his  only 
weapon  a  hunting-knife,  could  at  the  same  time  be 
as  tender  as  a  woman  with  a  wounded  companion. 

They  were  but  five  in  all,  Old  Sile,  the  two  kids 
and  a  couple  of  range  riders  who  knew  their  busi- 
ness from  A  to  Z,  hardy  fellows,  good  natured, 
reckless,  and  of  course  with  the  almost  universal 
love  for  strong  drink  that  marks  their  kind. 

Taken  altogether,  they  presented  quite  a  deter- 
mined and  warlike  appearance,  and  the  tenderfoot 
believed  it  would  be  a  sorry  day  for  the  painted  ma- 
rauders should  they  come  in  contact  with  them.  He 
had  had  no  experience  with  Sioux  on  the  rampage, 
and  did  not  know  what  deviltry  they  were  capable 
of  showing. 

The  gallop  continued  mile  after  mile. 

Eager  eyes  scanned  the  surrounding  prairie  when- 
ever the  horses  topped  a  rise,  but  if  the  Indians 
were  near  by  they  managed  to  conceal  their  where- 
abouts without  trouble,  for  no  one  caught  even  a 
glimpse  of  them  in  any  quarter. 

Then  Old  Sile  gave  a  sudden  signal  for  the  career- 
ing squad  to  halt,  and  was  overboard  immediately, 
bending  over  the  trail  his  keen  eyes,  ever  on  the 
alert  for  "sign." 

Crouching  down  on  all  fours  he  began  his  exam- 
ination. At  intervals  was  heard  a  grunt,  and  finally 
he  delivered  himself  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
knows  not  doubt: 

"Ten  Indians.  Heading  for  spot  northeast  of 
camp.  Why  in  thund'ration  did  Kelly  send  the  cat- 
tle thar?" 


44  Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch. 

Karl  tried  to  explain  that  they  had  been  "sent 
there  for  safety." 

Old  Sile  scarcely  heard,  or  if  he  did  he  took  no 
notice — only  continued  in  the  same  certain  tone: 

"Fellers  passed  here  two  hours  ago.  Humph! 
Indian  pony  ridden  by  a  girl — white  girl — by  gum, 
a  prisoner!" 

This  was  spoken  with  utter  confidence  by  the  vet- 
eran and  accepted  as  gospel  by  the  men,  which  made 
Cuthbert  stare  in  wonder. 

By  what  wizard  legerdemain  he  discovered  these 
facts  Cuthbert  could  not  even  guess,  but  he  knew 
something  of  the  wonderful  skill  shown  by  such 
plainsmen  in  reading  "sign;"  and  the  deductions 
aroused  by  a  bent  twig,  a  footprint  in  the  prairie 
mold  or  shred  of  dress  goods  caught  upon  a  cac- 
tus thorn  would  give  points  to  even  Conan  Doyle's 
famous  character,  Sherlock  Holmes. 

Perhaps  the  Sioux  had  raided  a  freighter's  camp, 
or  overwhelmed  some  daring  pilgrim  who  had,  with 
his  family,  set  out  unguarded  to  reach  the  new 
mines  of  the  Black  Hills. 

Karl  and  Cuthbert  were  the  only  ones  who  took 
the  least  interest  in  the  matter,  for  the  others  were 
figuring  solely  upon  the  chances  of  victory  in  case 
they  fell  in  with  the  cattle  thieves,  and  whether  their 
thatch  or  scalp  would,  as  a  result,  adorn  the  tepee 
of  a  Sioux  brave. 

They  must  speedily  know  the  worst,  for  they  were 
rapidly  rounding  up  to  that  portion  of  the  range 
known  to  be  used  by  the  big  bunch  of  cattle  that 
Kelly  had  handed  over  to  their  attention. 

Karl,  who  knew  something  about  such  matters, 
attempted  to  coach  his  friend  as  they  madly  rode 
along  side  by  side,  but  it  was  unusually  hard  work 
talking  under  such  circumstances,  and,  after  all, 
much  must  be  left  to  the  sagacity  and  intelligence 


Wild  Life  on  the  Ranch.  45 

of  each  individual  going  to  make  up  the  whole 
party. 

"One  more  rise  and  then  we'll  know,"  said  Karl, 
as  he  drew  his  gun,  and  took  a  fresh  seat  in  his 
saddle,  as  if  to  be  in  readiness  for  anything  that 
might  come. 

Cuthbert  held  his  breath  as  the  little  party  fairly 
flew  up  the  incline ;  when  his  eyes  looked  over  the 
crest  and  the  level,  grassy  plain  beyond,  he  saw  a 
spectacle  well  calculated  to  stir  the  blood  in  his  veins 
and  overwhelm  him  with  the  fever  of  battle,  for 
those  they  sought  were  upon  the  stage  of  action. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    INDIAN     FORAY. 

Even  before  our  little  party  had  gained  the  top 
of  the  rise  their  hearing  gave  plain  warning  that 
something  unusual  was  going  on  beyond,  for  a  con- 
fusion of  sounds  came,  borne  on  the  faint  zephyr — 
the  bellowing  of  cattle,  shrill  neighing  of  excited 
horses  and  shouts  that  were  unmistakably  human. 

So  those  who  had  had  previous  experience  in 
these  matters  were  not  very  much  surprised  at  the 
scene  that  burst  upon  their  vision. 

There  were  the  cattle  dashing  this  way  and  that, 
as  though  about  to  stampede,  while  anon  could  be 
seen  a  figure  on  horseback,  with  waving  arms,  en- 
deavoring to  collect  the  herd  so  that  it  could  be 
driven  off. 

Even  at  that  distance  they  could  readily  be  dis- 
tinguished as  Sioux  braves. 

Cuthbert  glued  his  eyes  on  them  eagerly. 

He  had  seen  a  few  tame  Indians  at  the  border 
town  from  whence  the  freighters'  caravan  started, 
and  some  more  of  the  same  sort  at  the  frontier 
fort,  but  this  was  really  his  first  glimpse  of  the  red- 
man  of  the  wild  and  woolly  West  engaged  in  his 
dangerous  game  of  running  off  cattle. 

The  sight  did  not  possess  the  same  fascination 
for  the  rest  of  the  crowd — they  only  experienced 
deep  indignation  and  anger  because  these  red 
thieves  of  the  border  had  pounced  upon  their  pet 
herd  and  were  intent  upon  driving  off  the  choicest 
animals,  to  slay  them  later  and  call  their  meat  buf- 
falo pemmican. 

Old  Sile  gave  a  peculiar  laugh,  as  dry  and  rat- 


The  Indian  Foray.  47 

tling  as  a  lot  of  bones  shaken  in  a  box,  or  the  crack- 
ling of  dead  leaves  in  the  forest. 

"Thar  they  be,  the  beauties,  and  neck  deep  in 
the  game.  We'll  have  to  spile  their  reckoning,  I 
kinder  guess.  Now,  then,  let  loose,  and  when  you 
shoot  let  lead  count." 

The  rush  down  the  slight  incline  and  across  the 
intervening  stretch  of  level  prairie,  would  Cuthbert 
ever  forget  it? — such  exhilaration,  with  his  blood 
at  fever  heat,  such  a  sensation  of  going  into  action 
the  first  time — every  young  soldier  has  experi- 
enced it. 

At  first  the  marauders  did  not  notice  their  sud- 
den advent  on  the  scene,  so  taken  up  were  they 
with  their  engaging  business,  and  the  breeze,  what 
little  there  was,  coming  from  the  wrong  quarter. 

The  little  cavalcade  cleared  some  distance  ere  a 
fierce  yell  declared  the  fact  of  their  discovery. 

"Sit  tight,  Cuthbert,"  shouted  Karl.  "The  beg- 
gars are  on  to  us  at  last." 

Cuthbert's  blood  was  up,  and  the  rush  across  the 
plain  had  given  him  a  superabundance  of  courage. 

"Say,  Karl,  watch  them  fly  in  about  a  minute." 

"Well,  hardly,"  said  Karl,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 
"My  boy,  we'll  have  some  tough  work  before  they 
clear  off." 

"But  they  won't  stand  up  to  us.  Why,  they'll 
turn  tail  directly  we  get  in  their  range." 

"What !  and  leave  the  chance  to  bag  cattle  ?  Not 
on  your  life." 

If  the  tenderfoot  expected  to  see  the  Sioux 
braves  scamper  off  in  alarm,  without  making  an 
effort  to  hold  what  they  had  seized  he  was  very 
much  mistaken. 

These  impetuous  young  bucks  were  just  pining 
for  action  of  some  sort,  and  welcomed  the  oppor- 
tunity to  have  a  little  brush  with  those  they  reck- 
oned their  hereditary  foes. 


48  The  Indian  Foray. 

At  the  same  time  previous  acquaintance  with  cow- 
boys had  taught  them  caution — they  knew  how 
reckless  these  wild  range  riders  might  be,  and  how 
proficient  with  rope  and  revolver. 

Evidently  the  red  rascals  had  arranged  a  plan  in 
anticipation  of  such  an  interruption,  for  while  a 
couple  endeavored  to  cut  off  a  fair-sized  bunch  of 
cattle  with  which  they  meant  to  ride  off,  the  other 
eight  galloped  toward  the  advancing  horsemen. 

Such  a  spectacle  as  they  presented,  the  boy  from 
the  East  had  never  before  seen — some  shook  their 
fists  in  bravado,  others  waved  guns  over  their  heads, 
while  all  of  them  sat  their  horses  as  though  a  part 
of  the  animals. 

With  many-colored  feathers  glowing  in  the  sun- 
light, and  the  war  paint  upon  their  faces  giving 
each  warrior  a  hideous  aspect,  they  truly  presented 
an  appearance  that  was  apt  to  send  a  thrill  of  alarm 
through  the  breast  of  the  stoutest  adversary. 

Still  Old  Sile  never  slackened  his  pace,  but  kept 
straight  on,  as  though  he  meant  to  teach  these  au- 
dacious young  bucks  a  lesson  they  would  not  soon 
forget,  and  Cuthbert,  seeing  the  grim  look  upon 
the  seamed  and  weather-beaten  face  of  the  veteran 
cow  puncher,  made  up  his  mind  there  was  nothing 
to  fear. 

They  kept  well  together  as  they  rode,  and  had 
now  arrived  within  easy  gunshot  of  their  galloping 
adversaries. 

"Do  the  Indians  mean  to  keep  straight  on  until 
the  shock  of  battle  comes?"  Cuthbert  asked,  now 
thoroughly  alarmed. 

Little  as  the  tenderfoot  knew  about  their  habits, 
he  did  not  think  this  could  be  the  usual  method  of 
warfare  employed  by  such  tricky  and  cautious 
people. 

"You  just  watch,"  said  Karl,  significantly. 

Even  as  he  contemplated  such  a  change  in  the 


The  Indian  Foray.  49 

programme  it  came  about — the  careering  maraud- 
ers divided  into  two  lines  and  began  to  draw  apart 
as  though  about  to  circle  around  them. 

It  was  an  ancient  trick,  but  fully  as  effective  as 
in  the  days  when  the  forty-niners  were  crossing 
the  plains,  exposed  to  the  attacks  of  the  prowling 
redmen. 

Old  Sile  laughed  again,  and  there  was  a  ring  of 
scorn  in  his  peculiar  cachination,  as  though  he  glo- 
ried in  an  opportunity  to  pay  off  old  scores,  for  he 
had  in  years  gone  by  suffered  much  loss  at  the  hands 
of  just  such  thieves  as  these. 

As  Cuthbert  looked,  guessing  what  was  coming 
next,  he  suddenly  saw  each  bronze  rider  throw  him- 
self out  of  sight  behind  the  body  of  his  galloping 
pony,  only  a  glimpse  of  his  painted  face  being 
caught  under  the  animal's  neck. 

Then  came  a  puff  of  smoke  and  the  spiteful  re- 
port of  a  gun. 

The  bullet  went  over  their  heads,  which  was  not 
to  be  wondered  at,  considering  how  difficult  it  must 
have  been  to  shoot  at  all  under  such  peculiar  condi- 
tions. 

Cuthbert  had  never  in  all  his  life  been  under  fire 
before,  and  somehow  he  found  himself  involuntarily 
ducking  his  head,  though  not  one  of  the  others 
moved  a  muscle,  which  fact  gave  him  a  feeling  of 
humiliation. 

By  this  time  the  Indians  were  riding  around  them 
on  all  sides,  for  Old  Sile  had  drawn  in  his  horse, 
knowing  what  must  be  done  to  beat  the  rascals  on 
their  own  ground. 

"Company  halt !"  he  sang  out. 

Cuthbert  drew  frantically  at  his  bridle  and 
brought  his  horse  on  his  haunches. 

He  was  eagerly  watching  to  see  what  the  others 
did,  wishing  to  be  in  the  same  boat,  and  when  they 


50  The  Indian  Foray. 

leaped  to  the  ground  the  boy  from  Virginia  was 
not  a  whit  behind. 

The  bullets  were  singing  overhead  and  all  around. 
Cuthbert  could  not  but  compare  them  to  an  en- 
raged swarm  of  bees  seeking  the  youthful  destroyer 
of  their  peace — he  had,  like  most  boys,  passed 
through  this  warm  experience  during  visits  to  the 
country,  and  the  impression  made  under  such  con- 
ditions remains  a  lifetime. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  himself  so  calm,  and 
began  to  entertain  a  better  opinion  of  his  abilities 
than  heretofore. 

Just  as  he  expected,  no  sooner  had  his  comrades 
touched  ground  than  they  sought  shelter  behind 
their  horses. 

It  was  a  thrilling  moment  with  those  wild  riders 
circling  around,  drawing  closer  to  fire  their  guns 
and  then  galloping  off  to  reload. 

Old  Sile  did  not  mean  to  remain  there  long  to 
serve  as  a  target  for  these  marksmen — it  was  true 
that  as  yet  they  had  done  no  damage,  but  a  ran- 
dom bullet  might  presently  cripple  one  of  the  horses 
forming  the  barricade. 

He  spoke  a  few  quick  words  to  Karl,  who  imme- 
diately turned  to  Cuthbert  on  the  other  side: 

"Let  me  have  your  rifle — it's  the  only  one  in  the, 
crowd,  and  those  skip-jacks  manage  to  keep  out- 
side pistol  shot.     Watch  how  surprised  they'll  be 
when  Old  Sile  opens  on  'em." 

They  surely  were,  not  having  expected  to  be  so 
warmly  received. 

The  man  who  had  been  with  Buffalo  Bill,  Texas 
Jack  and  Wild  Bill  Hickok  on  many  a  stirring  trail 
had  not  forgotten  how  to  handle  a  rifle  with  good 
results,  even  though  he  had  little  use  for  such  a 
weapon  in  his  business  as  cow  puncher. 

His  first  shot  tumbled  over  a  horse,  and  the  sur- 


The  Indian  Foray.  51 

prised  rider,  scrambling  out  from  under,  crawled 
away  through  the  grass  in  the  greatest  imaginable 
haste. 

Immediately  a  savage  shout  went  up  from  the 
other  cattle  thieves,  and  Cuthbert  imagined  they 
were  about  to  charge  headlong,  but  it  seemed  they 
had  too  much  discretion  for  that,  and  began  to 
draw  off. 

Old  Sile,  having  gotten  his  hand  in,  and  taken 
quite  a  fancy  to  the  new  gun,  thought  he  might  as 
well  keep  the  ball  going,  so  he  selected  another  vic- 
tim and  brought  the  poor  pony  down  with  apparent 
ease,  so  that  there  was  another  badly-demoralized 
Sioux  brave  plunging  through  the  grass  in  the  ef- 
fort to  escape  possible  doom. 

"Youngster,  this  is  a  good  'un,"  said  the  vet- 
eran. 

Cuthbert's  Winchester  had  certainly  won  honors 
enough  for  one  day,  and  the  boy  was  proud  of 
being  the  possessor  of  so  reliable  a  shooting-iron — 
besides,  Old  Sile  had  put  the  stamp  of  approval  on 
it  and  this  was  enough  for  him. 

This  second  disaster  quite  completed  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  young  bucks,  who,  giving  up  their  at- 
tack as  a  bad  job,  turned  tail  and  galloped  off. 

Our  friends  immediately  sprang  into  their  sad- 
dles and  started  in  hot  pursuit,  for  the  Indians  must 
be  driven  entirely  off  if  the  prize  cattle  were  to  be 
saved. 

The  two  red  herders  had  kept  an  anxious  eye 
upon  the  trend  of  events  even  while  they  endeavored 
to  urge  their  bunch  of  cattle  to  the  west,  frighten- 
ing them  with  shouts  and  waving  arms;  and  when 
they  saw  their  erstwhile  valorous  comrades  in  full 
retreat  with  the  squad  of  cowboys  bearing  in  their 
quarter  as  fast  as  horseflesh  could  carry  them,  a 
sudden  remembrance  of  an  engagement  elsewhere 


52  The  Indian  Foray. 

caused  them  to  give  up  the  herding  business  and 
flee  madly  over  the  plains. 

The  game  was  well  won. 

All  that  remained  now  was  to  gather  the  scattered 
cattle  in  a  bunch  and  head  them  in  the  direction  of 
the  ranch,  where  they  could  be  guarded  until  the 
marauders  had  left  the  country. 

This  might  appear  a  gigantic  task  in  the  eyes 
of  a  greenhorn,  but  to  experienced  cowboys  and 
herders  it  presented  no  great  difficulties. 

Soon  their  familiar  shouts  rang  over  the  prairie, 
and  the  horses  darted  hither  and  thither,  rounding 
up  the  cattle  that  had  been  scattered,  "milling" 
them  by  degrees  until  they  were  in  one  compact, 
bellowing  herd. 

The  Indians  had  quite  vanished  from  view,  hav- 
ing evidently  come  to  the  wise  conclusion  that  there 
might  be  other  cattle  far  easier  to  run  off  than  those 
bearing  the  X  bar  X  brand,  and  which  were  guarded 
by  so  determined  a  posse  of  cowboys. 

"How  about  that  girl  Old  Sile  told  us  was  with 
the  Indians?"  said  Cuthbert.  "Was  that  a  mis- 
take?" 

"You  don't  know  Old  Sile,"  said  Karl,  simply. 

"Well,  where  on  earth  is  she?  We  saw  no  sign 
of  her  among  the  cattle  thieves." 

"Guess  she's  around  somewhere,"  said  Karl. 
"Like  as  not  they've  tied  her  to  a  tree  until  such 
time  as  they  picked  out  their  beef." 

"You're  sure  there  is  a  captive  girl?" 

"What  Old  Sile  says  I'd  swear  by.  But,  here, 
if  you  want  to  get  on  the  track  of  that  girl  we  might 
try  that  clump  of  cottonwoods.  What  say?" 

"Right.     Let's  lose  no  time." 

Soon  they  entered  among  the  trees  with  consid- 
erable curiosity,  and  Karl  had  even  another  motive 
in  looking  keenly  about,  for  he  could  not  forget  the 
two  cattle  thieves  who  had  been  dismounted  as  a 


The  Indian  Foray.  53 

result  of  Old  Sile's  marksmanship,  and  suspected 
they  might  have  headed  in  this  direction  for  cover. 

Here  they  found  the  girl,  sure  enough,  proving 
the  old  range  hustler  a  clever  prophet,  indeed — she 
was  standing  beside  a  tree,  to  which  Cuthbert  saw 
she  had  been  secured. 

The  chivalry  of  Virginia  was  aroused  by  the  spec- 
tacle, and,  jumping  from  his  horse,  he  ran  eagerly 
up  to  liberate  her. 

She  was  clad  in  homespun,  evidently  some  set- 
tler's child,  and  quite  winning  in  appearance. 

Karl  had  not  moved — he  sat  in  his  saddle,  holding 
his  gun  in  one  hand,  as  though  expecting  to  use  it — 
thanks  to  his  knowledge  of  Indian  habits,  he  would 
never  trust  one  of  them  more  than  was  necessary. 

And  Cuthbert  soon  had  cause  to  bless  his  com- 
rade's foresight,  since  at  the  very  moment  he  was 
cutting  the  deerskin  thongs  that  bound  the  slip  of  a 
girl  to  the  tree  a  sinewy  pair  of  arms  were  thrown 
about  him,  pinioning  his  own  fast  to  his  sides,  while 
a  painted,  exultant  face  stretched  around  to  look 
into  his  eyes. 

The  second  Sioux  had  made  for  Karl,  hoping  no 
doubt  to  overwhelm  the  other  "kid"  as  easily  as 
Cuthbert  had  been  made  secure. 

He  reckoned  without  his  host,  however,  for  Karl, 
without  the  slightest  hesitation,  shot  him  in  the 
shoulder,  and,  having  quite  enough  of  the  game  by 
this  time,  the  young  brave  ran  off  with  one  helpless 
arm  at  his  side. 

It  was  easy  enough  to  intimidate  the  other  fel- 
low, who,  watching  his  chance  darted  behind  a  tree 
and  dodged  off. 

None  of  them  had  any  desire  to  remain  longer 
among  the  trees,  and,  as  the  girl  eagerly  declared 
her  willingness  to  accompany  them,  they  set  off. 

Cuthbert's  horse  being  the  larger  and  stronger, 
she  was  mounted  on  him,  though  Buckskin  had  ere 


54  The  Indian  Foray. 

now,  as  we  have  seen,  proved  his  ability  to  carry 
double  in  an  emergency. 

The  cowboys  had  already  started  the  cattle  in 
the  direction  of  Kelly's  ranch,  and  unless  new  and 
unexpected  difficulties  arose  they  seemed  in  a  fair 
way  to  bring  up  all  right. 

Of  course  there  was  no  chance  to  talk  with  the 
girl  during  the  ride,  and  Cuthbert  was  forced  to  re- 
strain his  curiosity  until  such  time  as  she  could  tell 
her  story. 

He  felt  sure  Kelly's  good  wife  would  look  well 
after  the  waif,  and  see  that  she  lacked  for  nothing. 

So  they  finally  neared  the  home  ranch. 

It  was  about  noon. 

Other  herds  had  meanwhile  been  driven  in,  and, 
surrounded  with  rope  corrals,  made  the  air  trem- 
ulous with  their  bellowing. 

It  looked  like  a  round-up,  for  there  were  other 
cattle  than  those  belonging  to  the  X  bar  X  brand 
present,  and  cowboys  belonging  to  other  outfits  cir- 
cled the  big  bunch. 

Loud  huzzahs  greeted  the  appearance  of  Old  Sile 
with  the  prize  lot  intact — the  foray  of  the  young 
bucks  had  been  a  lamentable  failure  in  this  section 
at  least,  and  the  cowboys  had  done  some  little  ex- 
ecution with  their  guns  that  might  deter  a  second 
raid. 

The  rescued  girl  was  received  warmly  by  the 
ranchman's  good  wife,  and  taken  at  once  into  the 
house  to  rest  after  her  strange  experience. 

She  smiled  her  thanks  to  the  boys,  and  both  of 
them  voted  her  a  charming  little  thing,  for  whom 
they  would  be  willing  to  do  much  more  than  had 
fallen  to  their  lot,  should  the  occasion  ever  arise. 

Later  on  they  heard  how  she  came  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  Sioux — it  was  a  story  not  strange 
to  the  border  in  those  days. 

In  company  with  her  uncle,  who  was  expecting 


The  Indian  Foray.  55 

to  have  some  connection  with  the  new  coal  mines 
recently  opened,  she  had  been  making  the  journey 
when  their  horses  fell  lame  and  they  dropped  be- 
hind the  rest  of  the  freighters'  wagon  train. 

It  was  while  camped  on  the  prairie  the  red  raid- 
ers came  into  camp. 

The  white  man,  realizing  the  folly  of  resistance 
when  his  enemies  were  two-score  against  one,  en- 
deavored to  make  friends  with  the  hot-headed, 
young  warriors,  but  they  treated  him  with  scant 
courtesy,  forced  Polly  to  mount  behind  one  of  their 
number  and  galloped  away. 

A  few  remained  behind,  and  the  poor  girl  had 
reason  to  fear  the  worst  when  she  heard  the  quick 
detonation  of  guns  in  that  quarter  ere  they  had  gone 
half  a  mile. 

Since  that  time  she  had  ridden  with  her  captors. 
They  treated  her  kindly  enough,  and  one  among 
them,  the  same  fellow  whom  Karl  had  wounded  in 
the  arm,  announced  his  intention  of  making  an  In- 
dian girl  out  of  her  by  staining  her  face  and  dyeing 
her  golden  hair — though  those  laughing  blue  eyes 
must  have  always  betrayed  her  to  be  of  other  than 
Indian  blood. 

They  saw  no  more  of  the  Sioux  raiders,  but  heard 
of  great  damage  caused  by  the  red  thieves  farther 
south,  where  they  ran  off  cattle,  killed  several  herd- 
ers and  made  more  or  less  work  for  the  soldiers 
sent  from  the  post  in  search  of  them. 

It  would  always  remain  a  vivid  recollection  in 
Cuthbert's  mind. 

Besides,  there  was  Polly. 

Mrs.  Kelly,  kind,  motherly  soul,  had  adopted  the 
waif,  for  there  was  pretty  good  evidence  that  the 
man  she  called  her  uncle  had  met  his  fate  on  that 
night  his  camp  was  invaded. 

Old  Sile  led*a  party  in  that  direction.  They  dis- 
covered the  wrecked  and  looted  wagon,  and  the 


56  The  Indian  Foray. 

bones  of  the  ill-starred  horses  which,  tethered  and 
helpless,  had  been  devoured  by  wolves  and  coyotes. 
They  also  found  evidence  that  some  wretched  hu- 
man being  had  also  met  his  doom  in  a  similar  man- 
ner, and  their  bitterness  toward  the  untutored  sav- 
age increased  to  the  day  of  reckoning  when  the  debt 
might  be  settled. 

Life  on  the  ranch  soon  drifted  back  into  the  chan- 
nel it  had  occupied  previous  to  the  advent  of  the 
bronzed  raiders. 

Karl  never  wearied  of  teaching  the  companion 
a  strange  fate  had  sent  to  him  the  varied  duties  ap- 
pertaining to  this  wonderful  life  on  the  prairies. 

They  occasionally  had  a  day  off,  when,  with  the 
faithful  Winchester  and  Karl's  gun  as  a  good  sec- 
ond, they  scoured  plain  and  coulee  for  such  big  game 
as  might  not  be  deemed  unworthy  the  notice  of 
such  ambitious  Nimrods. 

Thus  the  boy  who,  previous  to  his  Western  trip, 
had  never  bagged  anything  larger  than  duck  or 
rabbit,  perhaps  with  a  Canada  wild  goose  or  a  Vir- 
ginia red  fox  to  top  the  pile,  now  found  antelope, 
wolves,  coyotes,  and  even  a  bear  falling  before  his 
gun. 

The  last-named  gave  the  boys  about  as  severe 
a  shake-up  as  any  one  ever  experienced  and  came 
out  alive — indeed,  Karl  was  caught  unawares  and, 
as  a  last  resort,  had  to  take  to  a  tree  just  as  Cuth- 
bert  had  done. 

Unfortunately,  neither  of  them  was  armed,  Karl's 
revolver  being  with  his  belt,  hanging  on  a  tree  in 
camp,  while  the  Virginian  had  dropped  the  Win- 
chester in  his  mad  haste  to  clamber  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  bear,  at  which  he  had  hastily  fired  on 
sight  ere  Karl's  warning  shout  could  restrain  him. 

A  wounded  bear  is  usually  an  ugly  customer,  par- 
ticularly when  he  belongs  to  the  cinnamon  species. 


The  Indian  Foray.  57 

There  they  were,  lodged  in  two  trees  with  a  sav- 
age and  determined  foe  beneath. 

Cuthbert  was  dismayed. 

Not  so  his  friend — perhaps  he  had  never  gone 
through  with  this  experience  before,  but  others  had, 
and  he  could  profit  by  their  recital  of  how  they 
outwitted  Bruin. 

Accordingly  Karl  suggested  that  the  other  make 
a  fish-line  out  of  some  cord,  fasten  a  fork  cut  from 
the  tree  to  one  end  and  angle  for  the  gun,  while 
he  pretended  to  descend  and  kept  the  attention  of 
the  shaggy  monster. 

All  of  which  Cuthbert  entered  into  with  a  zest 
that  came  of  newly-awakened  hope  and  ambition. 

It  was  quite  a  tedious  job,  and  failure  stared  them 
in  the  face,  when  a  last  lucky  effort  served  to  fasten 
the  wooden  fork  in  the  guard  of  the  trigger. 

After  that  it  was  very  simple,  and  old  Bruin  paid 
the  debt  of  nature ;  but  he  was  a  stubborn  chap,  and 
it  took  all  of  six  bullets,  planted  where  they  were 
apt  to  do  the  most  good,  to  bring  him  to  time. 

There  was  something  to  admire  in  his  sturdy  de- 
fiance, refusing  to  cut  and  run  even  after  receiving 
such  painful  wounds,  and  Cuthbert  was  really  glad 
when  the  scene  came  to  its  inevitable  conclusion. 

Polly  proved  a  little  angel  of  the  ranch,  and  never 
a  man  but  who  would  have  laid  down  his  life  for 
her.  The  sound  of  her  sweet  voice  raised  in  song 
was  like  the  rippling  of  a  cheery  brook  gurgling 
over  moss-covered  stones  in  the  cool  shades  of  the 
forest,  and  more  than  one  hardened  case  bit  his 
tongue  to  repress  the  rough  oath  he  had  been  about 
to  utter. 

The  boys  she  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  broth- 
ers— to  them  she  felt  she  owed  her  escape  from 
the  bad  Indians,  and  in  many  ways  was  she  enabled 
to  show  the  deep  gratitude  that  lodged  within  her 
gentle  little  breast. 


58  The  Indian  Foray. 

Thus  the  summer  waned. 

Cuthbert  appeared  to  be  happy  and  contented. 
The  life,  wild  and  full  of  movement  as  it  was, 
seemed  to  agree  with  him,  for  he  no  longer  looked 
in  the  least  delicate  as  a  result  of  overstudy  in 
college. 

As  yet  he  had  not  spoken  of  his  past,  that  is 
beyond  casual  mention  of  the  sports  in  which  as  a 
lad  he  had  indulged. 

Perhaps  there  was  something  unpleasant  which 
he  did  not  relish  confiding  even  to  Karl,  and  thus 
kept  putting  off  the  evil  day. 

Karl  never  gave  it  much  thought — it  was  quite 
enough  for  him  to  know  he  had  found  a  congenial 
friend,  such  as  he  had  longed  to  possess,  and  if  the 
proud  Virginia  lad  came  from  a  family  whose  im- 
mediate ancestors  had  been  hung  as  pirates  it  mat- 
tered nothing. 

Although  the  grand  spring  round-up  had  been 
over  at  the  time  Cuthbert  came  to  Sunset  Ranch, 
he  was  from  time  to  time  given  opportunities  to 
assist  in  minor  affairs,  such  as  during  the  summer 
Indian  scare,  and  when  they  shipped  cattle  to  the 
nearest  railway  station. 

Thus  he  learned  all  about  rope-throwing,  could 
use  a  "snubbing  post"  almost  as  well  as  the  next 
one,  and  rode  a  vicious  broncho  in  a  manner  that 
even  elicited  warm  praise  from  old  cow  punchers. 

So  autumn  found  them. 


CHAPTER   V. 

AT    THE    SIOUX    CAMP. 

The  disagreeable  features  of  range  life  now  be- 
gan to  manifest  themselves.  Cuthbert  had  experi- 
enced them  to  a  small  extent  from  time  to  time, 
but  there  were  so  many  pleasant  days  sandwiched 
in  between  that  he  was  able  to  take  the  bad  phil- 
osophically with  the  good. 

Now  came  rainy  nights  when  he  was  wet  through, 
despite  the  yellow  oilskin  "sou'wester"  known  as 
a  "slicker"  on  the  plains,  when  he  would  ride  into 
camp  of  mornings  driving  the  saddle  band  of  horses, 
and  would  be  stiff  with  cold,  and  so  exhausted  that 
after  a  cup  of  hot  coffee  he  threw  himself  upon  the 
ground  in  his  tent  and  slept  like  a  log  while  his 
clothes  dried  on  him. 

Through  it  all  he  preserved  much  of  the  good 
nature  that  seemed  a  part  of  his  being. 

Karl,  who  had  been  toughened  by  long  years  of 
exposure,  watched  these  things  with  no  little 
concern. 

He  finally  decided  that  the  erstwhile  tenderfoot 
had  all  the  requirements  to  make  a  first-class  cow- 
boy in  due  process  of  time — a  little  more  hardening, 
with  a  blizzard  or  two  thrown  in,  would  teach  him 
all  there  was  to  be  known  in  the  business,  though 
improvement  was  always  possible. 

Old  Sile  came  up  occasionally  to  see  the  young- 
sters, in  whom  he  seemed  to  be  especially  interested, 
and  Cuthbert  grew  quite  fond  of  the  quaint  herder. 

He  had  long  since  discovered  that  Silas  Gregg 
had  been  a  soldier  in  his  father's  regiment  during 
those  dark  days  when  hostile  armies  struggled  and 
fought  upon  poor  Virginia's  sacred  soil,  and  this  fact 


60  At  the  Sioux  Camp. 

seemed  to  be  a  bond  between  them  which  drew  their 
hearts  together. 

Polly  was  blooming  out  into  a  perfect  prairie  rose, 
sunny-faced,  cheery  and  a  blessing  to  the  old  ranch- 
man's wife. 

The  boys  dearly  loved  to  have  her  with  them  on 
a  gallop,  and  were  proud  when  she  took  Cuthbert's 
rifle  and  proved  her  accomplishments  as  a  true 
Western  girl  by  incontinently  bowling  over  a  skulk- 
ing coyote  that  had  been  hovering  around  in  the 
hope  of  securing  a  young  and  tender  late  lamb  from 
the  sheepfold. 

Those  were  halcyon  days  indeed. 

No  shadow  of  the  trials  which  the  future  held  in 
store  for  them  crossed  the  boys'  trail. 

Cuthbert  had  seen  an  Indian  village  on  the  move, 
and  learned  many  facts  in  connection  with  these 
strange  people. 

The  old  medicine  man  aroused  his  keenest  curi- 
osity, and  he  examined  with  interest  the  odd  im- 
plements of  his  weird  calling — the  dried  gourds  into 
which  small  stones  had  been  introduced  to  make  a 
furious  rattling  when  shaken,  the  rattlesnake  fangs 
forming  a  necklace,  the  hideous  mask  which  the 
old  humbug  donned  when  endeavoring  to  drive 
away  the  evil  spirit  possessing  a  sick  Indian  by  his 
incantations  and  herbs,  and  many  other  kindred  arti- 
cles that  possessed  a  reverence  in  the  eyes  of  the 
simple  Sioux,  but  excited  his  secret  levity. 

Then  there  was  great  sport  horse  racing,  the  In- 
dians believing  they  possessed  the  finest  animals  on 
earth,  for  modesty  is  unknown  to  their  craft. 

So  the  boys  determined  to  take  them  down  a  peg 
or  two,  and  laid  plans  accordingly.  One  young 
buck,  a  son  of  the  leading  chief,  Afraid-of-His- 
Horses,  was  especially  loud  in  taunting  the  pale- 
face lads,  and  particularly  Karl,  about  the  superior 
breed  of  animals  owned  by  the  Sioux,  and  their 


At  the  Sioux  Camp.  61 

proficiency  in  riding — the  white  boys  were  not  in  it 
when  the  pace  was  hot  and  furious,  however  much 
they  might  appear  at  home  when  chasing  horned 
cattle. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  a  challenge  resulted. 

"See  here,"  said  Karl  one  day,  "this  Indian  kid's 
got  a  grudge  against  me.  That  right?" 

"I  think  that's  evident,"  said  Cuthbert,  with  a 
smile. 

"I  wonder  why." 

"Well,  I  guess  we'll  find  out  one  day  that  Little 
Buckshot,  this  big  chief's  arrogant  son,  is  in  reality 
the  painted  cattle  thief  who  carried  Polly  off." 

"I  kind  of  thought  so,"  said  Karl. 

"No  wonder  he  don't  love  you.  A  bullet  in  a  fel- 
low's shoulder  isn't  the  way  to  gain  his  affections." 

They  both  laughed  over  the  episode. 

"And  didn't  you  see  the  kid  in  camp  once  or 
twice?"  went  on  Cuthbert. 

"Yes,  like  as  not  I  did — but  not  to  notice,"  said 
Karl. 

"Bah!  Why  Little  Buckshot  has  several  times 
made  some  excuse  to  ride  up  to  the  ranch,  dressed 
in  all  the  pomp  and  style  of  the  Indian  dandy — and 
I  begin  to  think  there  is  no  more  conceited  fool 
on  earth — evidently  in  the  hope  of  making  an  im- 
pression upon  Polly.  I  guess  he  must  have  cher- 
ished a  secret  admiration  for  her." 

"Phew!     You  don't  say!"  exclaimed  Karl. 

"Yes,  it's  all  straight.  Take  my  word  for  it,  Karl, 
the  chap  who  carried  off  Polly  and  wanted  to  make 
her  an  Indian  girl,  and  the  fellow  in  war  paint  that 
got  a  bullet  of  yours  in  his  shoulder,  and  the  Little 
Buckshot  that's  going  to  make  sport  of  your  horse 
racing — they're  all  one  and  the  same." 

"Humph !  Going  to  make  sport  of  old  Buckskin ! 
No,  sirree!  Not  if  I  knows  it.  I'm  burning  to  see 
him  do  it.  That's  all." 


62  At  the  Sioux  Camp. 

Arrangements  were  speedily  made  for  the  great 
event,  and  Karl's  popularity  among  the  cow  punch- 
ers brought  scores  of  the  boys  around  on  the  day 
the  race  was  to  come  off. 

Bets  were  freely  made. 

An  Indian  takes  little  interest  in  a  horse  race  un- 
less he  has  staked  something  on  it. 

Karl  was  therefore  compelled  to  put  up  his  pony 
against  the  one  his  competitor  meant  to  ride. 

He  knew  he  had  a  big  task  ahead,  for  Little  Buck- 
shot meant  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  in  order  to 
accomplish  his  defeat,  for  it  was  expected  that  the 
Kellys  and  Polly  would  view  the  race  in  company 
with  the  head  men  of  the  tribe  and  some  visiting 
Eastern  sportsmen  in  search  of  buffalo,  then  rapidly 
disappearing  from  the  great  Western  plains. 

Karl  knew  the  good  points  of  Buckskin,  and  had 
no  fears  as  to  the  result,  secretly  believing  there 
was  not  a  horse  in  the  country  that  could  outrun  his 
reliable  mount  when  he  was  in  the  saddle  and  the 
conditions  favorable. 

The  day  came. 

It  was  a  time  of  great  excitement  among  the 
dusky  sons  of  the  prairie. 

The  cowboys  enjoyed  the  fun,  too,  and  circulated 
among  the  tepees  making  bantering  wagers  and  jol- 
lying their  copper-colored  friends  in  a  way  peculiar 
to  their  class. 

Fortunately  there  was  no  trader  on  hand  with  his 
kegs  of  fire-water,  so  that  the  chances  of  clash  be- 
tween the  two  races  was  slender;  such  things  have 
occurred  at  times,  with  grievous  results  on  both 
sides. 

The  scene  was  very  exhilarating  at  the  time  Karl 
and  his  chum  rode  up. 

All  preliminaries  for  the  race  had  been  arranged 
and  the  course  had  been  laid  out. 

It  was  patterned  somewhat  after  the  regular  cus- 


At  the  Sioux  Camp.  63 

torn  of  civilization,  a  number  of  circuits  of  a  trian- 
gular course  measuring  a  mile  around. 

Usually  Indian  races  had  been  straight  away,  but 
by  degrees  they  were  coming  to  recognize  the  ster- 
ling advantages  of  the  other  course,  where  the  start 
and  conclusion  would  be  under  observation,  and  any 
trickery  that  might  be  attempted  discovered. 

Little  Buckshot  certainly  had  hunted  up  a  mag- 
nificent animal,  that  was  the  envy  of  every  cow 
puncher  present. 

Cuthbert  began  to  lose  a  little  of  the  sturdy  con- 
fidence that  had  up  to  this  hour  dominated  his  whole 
being. 

Not  so  Karl. 

The  prairie  lad  had  grimly  made  up  his  mind  to 
win  that  race,  and  he  felt  that  with  true  sympathy 
between  horse  and  rider,  Buckskin  could  not  be 
beaten. 

Besides,  Polly  was  an  inspiration.  Polly,  whose 
bright  eyes  so  full  of  mischief  and  dancing  with  good 
health,  shot  him  encouragement  as  he  galloped  past 
the  "grand  stand." 

The  Indians  had  scattered  all  along  the  line  of 
the  race  course,  the  better  to  encourage  their  rep- 
resentative, the  chief's  pet  son. 

Here  and  there  a  sombrero  announced  the  pres- 
ence of  a  cowboy,  bent  upon  seeing  fair  play;  for 
these  hustlers  of  the  prairie  had  a  very  poor  opinion 
of  an  Indian's  honesty,  and  they  feared  lest  some 
trick  might  be  attempted  should  the  closing  heat 
of  the  race  show  Karl  in  the  lead. 

The  terms  had  been  carefully  repeated  to  both 
contestants  by  the  august  old  chief,  and  at  last  the 
critical  moment  arrived  when  the  word  was  to  be 
given. 

Intense  excitement  reigned  everywhere,  and  the 
whole  Sioux  village  was  afield  to  see  this  most  in- 


64  At  the  Sioux  Camp. 

teresting  sport,  in  which  an  Indian  naturally  takes 
the  keenest  delight. 

"Ready?"  cried  the  chief. 

"Yes,  yes,"  shouted  the  impatient  cowboys,  anx- 
ious to  see  the  start. 

"Go!"  came  the  command. 

"Thar  they  go,"  yelled  the  crowd  of  cowboys. 
"Give  it  to  him,  Karl.  Buckskin's  goin'  to  swipe 
the  prize.  Go  home,  you  red  fool!" 

"O-he-o!"  followed  the  shriek  of  the  Indians. 

The  two  young  competitors  shot  forward  like  twin 
arrows  from  the  same  bow — side  by  side  they 
crossed  the  line  amid  the  thunderous  shouts  of  the 
spectators,  in  which  the  shrill  cries  of  the  Indians 
could  be  heard  above  the  hoarser  yells  of  the  cow- 
boys. 

Karl,  whose  life  ha'd  been  almost  spent  in  the  sad- 
dle, knew  full  well  that  in  a  game  of  this  sort,  cool- 
ness and  watchfulness  meant  half  the  battle. 

He  knew  the  wonderful  power  possessed  by  his 
horse  to  make  an  unrivaled  spurt,  and  felt  certain 
that  if  he  could  hold  the  Indian  up  to  the  last 
stretch  the  race  was  his  beyond  any  question. 

It  seemed  as  though  the  other  were  in  no  hurry 
to  bring  out  the  latent  qualities  in  his  noble  steed, 
for  during  the  first  mile  lap  the  two  rivals  galloped 
side  by  side. 

The  pace  was  hot  enough  to  satisfy  those  who 
looked  on,  but  the  experienced  easily  detected  the 
fact  that  as  yet  neither  horse  had  by  long  odds  been 
put  to  his  best  paces. 

Karl,  looking  across  toward  his  lithe  competitor, 
could  see  a  dusky  face  turned  in  his  direction,  a  face 
that  was  lighted  by  a  savage  smile,  and  then  he 
knew  positively  that  Little  Buckshot  was  the  ma- 
rauding young  buck  whom  he  had  wounded  in  the 
timber,  for  the  mask  being  thrown  aside,  he  saw 
him  as  he  was. 


At  the  Sioux  Camp.  65 

Then  the  dusky  rider  plied  his  whip,  and  his  horse 
shot  forward  like  a  hawk  darting  upon  its  quarry. 

One  touch  of  Karl's  quirt  and  Buckskin  was  hold- 
ing his  own,  his  nose  just  behind  the  big  gray's 
rump. 

Such  shrieks  and  yells  as  arose  all  along  the  line — 
it  was  like  pandemonium  broke  loose ;  but  Karl  paid 
no  attention  to  the  derisive  execrations  of  the  ex- 
cited Indians  or  the  encouraging  shouts  of  his  cow- 
boy adherents — all  he  saw  was  that  figure  on  the 
big  gray  just  ahead  and  the  mocking  sneer  on  Lit- 
tle Buckshot's  face  whenever  the  latter  turned  to 
look  back  in  the  hope  that  he  had  shaken  his  per- 
sistent pursuer  off. 

A  third  stretch  opened. 

The  Indian  had  started  to  belabor  his  mount  as 
only  one  of  his  kind,  acting  under  stress  of  excite- 
ment can,  and  the  animal  was  really  doing  his  best. 

By  this  time  the  pace  was  terrific,  and  delighted 
spectators  of  all  shades;  though  deep  anxiety  made 
itself  manifest  on  many  faces  as  they  watched  the 
two  boy  rivals  go  thundering  past,  for  heavy  wagers 
depended  on  the  final  result. 

Karl  knew  his  hand  was  on  the  prize. 

He  still  held  Buckskin  close  behind  the  big  gray, 
and  as  yet  had  had  no  occasion  to  call  upon  that 
wonderful  reserve — it  was  a  card  he  held  up  his 
sleeve. 

To  beat  the  Indian  was  not  enough — he  desired 
to  snatch  victory  away  from  him  just  when  the  other 
felt  sure  of  winning. 

This  required  good  judgment  on  his  part,  since  a 
mistake  might  ruin  all. 

The  last  quarter  was  taken  up. 

Now  they  passed  the  first  stake  of  the  triangle  and 
made  the  sharp  turn  without  a  change — when  the 
second  had  been  reached  and  the  gap  between  had 


66  At  the  Sioux  Camp. 

widened  a  trifle,  the  Indian,  seeing  the  home  stretch 
in  front,  thought  he  had  surely  won. 

He  could  not  refrain  from  waving  his  hand  ex- 
ultantly to  his  friends  and  giving  vent  to  a  yell  of 
satisfaction. 

There  is  an  old  saying  to  the  effect  that  an  In- 
'dian  should  never  shout  until  he  is  in  the  woods, 
nor  a  white  man  until  out  of  them. 

So  Little  Buckshot  counted  without  his  host. 

Karl  knew  the  crisis  was  upon  him. 

It  was  win  or  lose. 

All  depended  upon  the  yellow  nag. 

The  cowboy's  best  friend  needed  no  plying  of  the 
stinging  quirt's  lash — Karl  and  he  were  well  ac- 
quainted, and  Buckskin  knew  what  was  required  of 
him  when  the  rider  bent  low  in  the  saddle  and  chir- 
ruped in  his  ear. 

Magnificently  he  responded. 

Foot  by  foot  he  overtook  the  big  gray. 

Now  they  raced  side  by  side  and  the  goal  just 
ahead — the  young  buck  was  frantically  plying  his 
whip,  shrieking  in  anger  and  digging  his  moccasined 
heels  into  the  steaming  side  of  his  noble  steed. 

Alas!  the  big  gray  was  at  his  limit. 

"Now,  Buckskin,  my  beauty,  show  'em  what  you 
can  do,"  whispered  Karl,  and  Buckskin  responded 
nobly,  shooting  ahead  and  crossing  the  line  so  far 
in  advance  that  there  was  a  plain  streak  of  daylight 
between  the  rival  horses. 

Evidently  there  could  be  no  dispute  as  to  the  re- 
sult of  that  race. 

A  roar  of  applause  greeted  Karl's  victory,  and  the 
cowboys  thought  it  incumbent  upon  them  to  give  a 
volley  or  two  from  their  guns  into  the  air. 

The  Indians  took  their  defeat  philosophically,  as 
was  their  wont — all  but  Little  Buckshot,  who 
scowled  the  hatred  that  filled  his  soul. 

Karl  might  have  felt  sorry  for  him,  realizing  the 


At  the  Sioux  Camp.  67 

awful  bitterness  of  such  a  defeat  in  the  presence  of 
his  friends,  but  the  memory  of  what  this  hot-headed 
young  buck  had  done  when  the  cattle  raid  was  on 
prevented  him  from  wasting  any  sympathy  in  that 
quarter. 

He  knew  Indian  nature  too  well  to  attempt  any 
move  looking  toward  reconciliation,  which  he  was 
sure  would  be  spurned  by  the  hot-head. 

Leading  his  steaming  horse  he  went  straight  to 
where  Kelly  and  his  party  laughed  and  joked  with 
the  disappointed  old  chief  and  dejected  headmen  of 
the  tribe. 

Evidently  the  charms  of  the  medicine  man  had 
failed  to  bring  about  the  desired  result — the  old 
humbug  had  been  a  conspicuous  figure  among  the 
spectators  during  the  race,  garbed  after  a  manner 
to  arouse  the  enthusiasm  of  a  Bowery  urchin,  but 
after  the  Indian's  signal  defeat  he  mysteriously  van- 
ished from  the  scene,  having  gone,  no  doubt,  to  per- 
form some  more  mystic  rites  and  discover  why  the 
gods  had  made  so  great  a  blunder. 

Polly's  words  of  congratulation  made  Karl  feel 
as  though  he  had  in  part  avenged  the  indignity  of 
her  kidnapping — although  when  he  came  to  con- 
sider the  matter  closely,  he  could  not  see  why  he 
should  hold  a  grudge  against  the  other  on  that  ac- 
count, since  he  would  probably  never  have  known 
Polly  had  the  young  braves  remained  quietly  on 
their  reservation  instead  of  getting  the  fever  to  run 
off  cattle. 

Mr.  Kelly  whispered  a  warning. 

"Keep  an  eye  out  for  trouble — that  fellow  is  not 
taking  his  defeat  the  right  way,  Karl.  Mark  my 
words,  you'll  see  more  of  him  yet,"  was  the  way 
he  put  it. 

Others  among  the  experienced  cow  punchers  were 
of  the  same  opinion,  and  some  openly  declared  Karl 
would  have  to  fight  for  it  yet. 


68  At  the  Sioux  Camp. 

He  did  not  seem  worried,  whereat  Cuthbert  won- 
dered— it  was  far  from  pleasant  to  feel  that  an  In- 
dian of  some  influence  among  the  hot-headed 
younger  element  hated  him  with  such  intense  bitter- 
ness. 

Whether  the  old  warriors  knew  of  their  partici- 
pation in  the  raid  or  not  could  not  be  told,  but 
doubtless  they  winked  at  the  indiscretion,  feeling 
that  young  blood  could  not  be  wholly  restrained, 
and  accepted  the  stores  of  pemmican  brought  in  as 
buffalo  meat  with  philosophical  indifference. 

The  brand  of  the  cattle  had  disappeared  when  the 
hide  was  buried  under  the  prairie  turf,  and  no  one 
could  claim  his  own. 

Karl  led  his  prize  back  to  the  ranch. 

The  big  gray  was  a  fine  animal — true,  he  had  been 
only  half  broken  by  his  former  Indian  owner,  and 
the  boy's  first  duty  was  to  put  him  through  his 
paces,  introducing  him  to  the  various  phases  in  a 
cowboy's  career. 

Cuthbert  was  uneasy  for  a  time,  and  scrutinized 
every  clump  of  sage  brush  or  cactus  that  lay  near 
their  line  of  travel — he  had  an  idea  that  the  Indians, 
humiliated  in  the  great  race,  would  live  only  for 
revenge,  and,  having  the  cowboy's  general  poor 
opinion  of  the  aborigines,  he  feared  lest  Little  Buck- 
shot might  lie  in  wait  behind  some  such  cover  to 
make  Karl  his  target,  after  the  bushwhacker  style  in 
vogue  among  the  Tennessee  mountains  during  the 
Civil  War. 

As  the  days  passed  by,  and  their  duties  called  for 
attention,  nothing  occurred  to  cause  alarm,  and 
Cuthbert  gradually  let  the  matter  pass  out  of  his 
mind. 

The  Indians  had  moved  on — they  were  really 
upon  their  annual  grand  hunt,  for  as  long  as  buffalo 
could  be  found  upon  the  range  this  great  event  was 
religiously  observed. 


At  the  Sioux  Camp.  69 

The  time  was  near  at  hand,  however,  when  it 
would  be  but  a  memory,  for  the  great  droves  that 
once  blackened  the  prairie  for  miles  during  their 
migration  north  and  south  had  been  decimated  until 
now  they  were  only  found  in  small  herds,  eagerly 
hunted  alike  by  red  and  white,  even  foreigners  com- 
ing over  and  engaging  guides  like  "Buffalo  Bill" 
Cody  to  give  them  a  last  chance  ere  the  bison  ut- 
terly vanished. 

It  can  be  readily  understood  how  the  Virginia 
lad,  having  graduated  in  the  class  of  wolf  and  ante- 
lope shooting,  now  that  he  had  actually  bagged  a 
big  cinnamon  bear — albeit  it  was  a  pot  shot  from  a 
tree  that  did  the  business — should  aspire  to  engage 
in  a  genuine  buffalo  hunt. 

Years  hence  he  felt  it  would  be  with  pride  one 
might  recall  having  been  instrumental  in  bringing 
down  such  big  game. 

Karl  was  equally  eager,  though  he  had  been  con- 
cerned in  such  a  chase  many  times,  but  that  magic 
gun  of  the  tenderfoot  had  especial  charms  for  him, 
as  Winchester  repeaters  were  at  the  time  some- 
thing of  a  novelty  in  that  region.  He  wanted  to 
have  a  whack  with  it  among  the  buffalo,  to  see 
whether  it  was  quite  as  capable  of  tumbling  a  mighty 
bull  to  the  earth  as  the  old-time  rifle. 

The  autumn  was  pretty  well  along  before  there 
came  the  desired  opportunity.  Already  they  had 
experienced  a  cold  snap,  and  could  expect  a  blizzard 
any  day  that  would  give  the  herders  mountains  of 
trouble  endeavoring  to  save  the  cattle. 

Karl  came  in  one  day  with  the  news  that  he  had 
discovered  a  small  herd  of  buffalo  that  somehow 
had  lingered  longer  in  the  north  than  their  fellows, 
and  thus  far  escaped  the  hunting  parties  of  Indians 
scouring  the  prairie  in  a  round-up  for  winter  meat. 

Cuthbert  was  delighted. 

All  necessary  arrangements  were  made,  and  per- 


yo  At  the  Sioux  Camp. 

mission  obtained  from  the  genial  ranch-owner  for 
a  day  off,  in  the  expectation  of  both  sport  and  profit, 
for  the  anticipated  supply  of  buffalo  meat  was  not 
to  be  scorned. 

Cuthbert  had  some  difficulty  in  getting-  to  sleep, 
for  his  nerves  tingled  with  excitement — this  was 
a  treat  he  had  long  promised  himself,  and  now  that 
his  hopes  seemed  in  a  fair  way  of  being  fulfilled, 
he  could  not  get  the  subject  out  of  his  mind. 

In  imagination  he  went  through  the  whole  busi- 
ness, just  as  experienced  Karl  had  rehearsed  for 
him,  and  even  gloried  in  seeing  a  shock-headed  bull 
bite  the  dust  in  response  to  his  skill  as  a  marksman. 

Then  some  one  roughly  shook  him — he  had  an 
idea  it  was  Little  Buckshot  claiming  the  trophy  of 
the  chase. 

"It's  time!"  said  a  voice. 

Cuthbert  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes,  astonished 
to  find  it  all  a  dream,  and  that  he  was  in  the  home 
shack,  with  Karl  pulling  at  his  sleeve. 

The  buffalo  bull  was  a  myth,  and  Little  Buck- 
shot only  conspicuous  by  his  absence. 

He  jumped  up,  ready  to  follow  wherever  Karl 
chose  to  lead,  and  determined  to  make  at  least  the 
first  part  of  his  dream  a  reality. 

It  was  dark  as  Egypt  outside. 

The  stars  glimmered  overhead,  and  the  air  was 
frosty  and  keen. 

Karl  had  some  coffee  ready,  and  both  boys  took 
a  snack  ere  starting  out  upon  the  hunt. 

The  temperature  had  no  terrors  for  such  hardy 
range  riders — in  truth,  it  made  the  blood  circulate, 
and  did  them  good. 

A  third  animal  was  taken  along  as  a  pack  horse, 
upon  the  back  of  which  they  meant  to  convey  any 
meat  secured,  back  to  the  ranch. 

One  of  the  men  was  moving  as  they  passed?  out. 


At  the  Sioux  Camp.  71 

He  could  easily  guess  their  errand,  and  his  "so- 
long"  had  in  it  all  the  cheery  elements  of  good 
wishes  for  luck  to  be  with  them. 

Karl  was  perfectly  at  home  on  the  prairie  by  day 
or  night — the  stars  were  his  guide,  and  should  these 
fail,  he  always  had  his  little  compass  to  depend 
upon — besides,  there  were  various  other  methods  of 
locating  the  cardinal  points  known  to  those  who 
risk  their  lives  on  the  boundless,  swelling  plains. 

Straight  on  he  rode,  mile  after  mile,  with  Cuth- 
bert  galloping  alongside  and  the  gray  trailing  be- 
hind, now  skirting  a  treacherous  gopher  village, 
anon  avoiding  a  coulee  that  lay  across  their  track. 

They  talked  as  they  rode  leisurely  on,  since  Karl 
had  taken  time  by  the  forelock  and  started  early 
enough,  so  there  was  no  haste. 

Dawn  was  at  hand. 

There  is  no  prettier  sight  than  the  breaking  of 
day  as  seen  upon  the  prairies,  where  the  level  hori- 
zon seems  so  very  distant.  The  gray  line  in  the  east 
widened  and  turned  to  a  pale  yellow,  and  presently 
the  sun  arose,  heralded  by  glowing  red  streamers 
that,  according  to  old  plainsmen,  as  well  as  mariners 
of  the  sea,  promised  storm  ere  long. 

Before  sunup  the  boys  had  entered  the  belt  of 
timber  beyond  which  the  herd  of  bison  was  supposed 
to  be  feeding  in  fancied  security. 

Perhaps  the  tufted  grass  was  sweeter  in  the  lee 
of  the  wooded  section — some  such  cause  had  op- 
erated to  detain  them  in  their  migration  to  the 
warmer  south  land. 

The  three  horses  were  led  now,  and  finally  se- 
cured to  trees,  while  the  young  hunters  sought  the 
fringe  of  the  timber,  in  order  to  ascertain  whether 
theirs  had  been  a  fools'  errand  or  not. 

Cuthbert's  heart  was  jumping  nervously  as  they 
reached  a  point  from  which  an  observation  could 


72  At  the  Sioux  Camp. 

be  taken,  and  looked  over  the  open  ground  beyond, 
and  then  a  sense  of  satisfaction  such  as  only  a  born 
hunter  may  feel  swept  over  him,  for  a  score  of  dark, 
shaggy  animals  which  he  knew  to  be  buffalo,  came 
within  range  of  his  eager  vision. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A    DAKOTA    BLIZZARD. 

Apparently  their  presence  was  as  yet  unknown 
to  the  buffaloes,  for  they  appeared  to  be  feeding — 
Karl  had  made  sure  that  the  wind  was  right  ere  ad- 
vancing to  the  edge  of  the  timber. 

At  sight  of  the  big  game,  Cuthbert  felt  all  the 
eager  symptoms  that  stamp  a  true  hunter — he 
yearned  to  be  crawling  up  among  them  or,  mounted 
on  his  fleet  horse,  pursuing  them  in  headlong  fashion 
over  the  prairie. 

Karl  was  the  one  to  decide  upon  their  course  of 
action,  and  his  will  was  to  be  as  despotic  as  that 
of  Caesar,  from  which  there  could  be  no  appeal. 

So  the  young  Virginia  lad  restrained  his  impa- 
tience and  waited  for  the  word. 

Meanwhile  he  watched  the  bison. 

To  his  mind  they  seemed  contented  enough  with 
their  surroundings,  but  Karl  detected  an  uneasi- 
ness that  aroused  his  curiosity,  since  he  was  sure 
it  could  not  spring  from  their  presence  near  by. 

"There's  something  they  don't  just  exactly  fancy 
around  about — a  wolf,  likely  enough,  but  I  see  no 
calf  to  be  in  danger,"  and  Karl  shook  his  head  in 
a  puzzled  way,  as  though  the  situation  might  be  too 
much  for  him. 

"What  is  that  object  yonder  crawling  through 
the  grass?"  asked  his  companion  in  a  whisper,  as  he 
pointed  in  a  certain  direction. 

"Mr.  Wolf,  on  your  life,  but  I  declare  I  don't 
remember  ever  seeing  one  that  crawled  so  clumsy. 
There  he  goes  up  to  that  cow  standing  alone — if 
he  tackles  her  I'll  be  more  than  surprised.  Look 
yonder,  what  in  all  creation  does  that  mean?" 


74  A  Dakota  Blizzard. 

There  was  little  need  of  urging  Cuthbert  to  look, 
since  his  eyes  were  glued  upon  the  big  gray  wolf 
that  had  shambled  along  unsteadily  until  close  up  to 
the  buffalo  cow. 

Then  up  rose  the  wolf  on  his  hind  legs,  and 
seemed  to  go  through  some  maneuvre  as  though 
pawing  the  air. 

Karl  uttered  a  low  ejaculation,  as  a  sharp  "twang" 
came  to  their  ears,  borne  by  the  breeze. 

At  the  same  time  the  gray  wolf  dropped  again 
upon  all  fours. 

The  bison  had  ceased  feeding  and  trotted  heav- 
ily toward  the  remainder  of  the  herd. 

There  was  an  unsteadiness  in  her  gait  that  Karl's 
quick  eye  detected. 

"Watch  her  drop !"  he  whispered. 

Sure  enough,  the  big  beast  seemed  overcome  with 
weariness  before  reaching  her  companions,  she  stag- 
gered, sank  to  her  knees,  and  then  rolled  over  in  a 
way  that  was  peculiar,  to  say  the  least — twice  she 
essayed  to  rise  again,  but,  unequal  to  the  effort, 
finally  lay  still. 

"Dead,"  said  Karl,  positively. 

"What?"  gasped  Cuthbert,  wondering  what  it  all 
meant,  and  if  he  were  under  a  spell. 

"Watch  the  gay  old  deceiver,  Mr.  Wolf,"  was 
what  the  cowboy  said. 

There  was  a  distinct  shade  of  bitterness  in  his 
tone,  which  aroused  Cuthbert's  curiosity  still  more, 
until  it  affected  his  nerves,  and  he  was  actually 
trembling  with  eagerness  to  discover  the  explan- 
ation of  these  strange  things. 

Nevertheless,  he  fastened  his  eyes  on  the  beast 
of  prey,  as  though  the  wolf  might  after  all  prove 
the  key  of  the  whole  puzzle. 

The  wolf  was  repeating  his  remarkable  actions, 
creeping  up  toward  a  bull  that  in  feeding  had  left 
the  balance  of  the  herd. 


A  Dakota  Blizzard.  75 

Again  did  the  wolf  rise  up,  again  came  that  vibrat- 
ing "twang"  like  the  snapping  of  a  violin  string, 
and,  inside  of  a  few  minutes,  that  bull  had  also 
dropped  to  the  earth. 

Cuthbert  clutched  his  companion's  arm. 

"Tell  me  what  it  means — there  is  surely  magic 
in  it  somewhere?"  he  whispered. 

"Not  at  all — only  a  miserable  Sioux  brave,"  said 
Karl,  bitterly. 

Cuthbert  had  an  inspiration. 

"The  seeming  wolf "  he  gasped. 

"That  skin  hides  an  Indian — that's  how  a  redskin 
brings  down  buffalo;  and  he  must  be  a  dandy  with 
bow  and  arrow,  for  I  can  count  seven  dead  ones  from 
here." 

"A  bow — then  that  snap  was  the  bow-string  when 
he  let  fly?" 

"Jest  so,  and  now  he's  after  another — see  how 
he  crawls  through  the  grass." 

"But  surely  he  has  enough  now  with  eight  on  the 
ground." 

"That's  where  you're  all  off.  If  he  could  kill  a. 
thousand  he'd  do  it  for  the  tongues  alone,  and  let 
the  rest  go.  No,  you  can  gamble  that  unless  some- 
thing happens  every  one  in  the  herd  will  fall,  and 
there  are  'bout  thirteen  left  now." 

Cuthbert's  heart  sank. 

"Can't  we  do  something?"  he  suggested. 

"There  may  be  no  need;  they  begin  to  grow  un- 
easy even  now,  and  I  think  he'll  only  get  one  or  two 
more  before  they  break  away." 

"Shall  we  get  our  horses  and  be  ready  for  a 
chase?" 

Karl  looked  steadily  around  as  if  to  decide  upon 
the  course  the  animals  would  take  when  once  they 
started  off. 

"Yes,  some.  I  reckon  we'll  be  in  the  hunt  yet, 
but  keep  an  eye  out  for  the  red  thieves.  They  may 


76  A  Dakota  Blizzard. 

believe  we  started  the  game,  and  be  mad  enough 
to  bother  us." 

When  the  horses  had  been  secured,  the  two  young 
Nimrods  turned  and  went  south  a  short  distance, 
after  which  they  again  made  their  way  to  the  edge 
of  the  timber. 

There  they  arrived  just  in  time  to  witness  the 
stampede  of  the  buffalo. 

Doubtless,  suspicion  had  become  certainty  with 
the  old  war-scarred  bull  in  charge  of  the  herd,  and 
giving  the  alarm,  he  went  plunging  off  over  the 
prairie,  followed  by  the  rest,  at  a  course  that  would 
presently  bring  them  past  our  hunters. 

Thus  there  was  a  brief  time  for  them  to  wait. 

Cuthbert  involuntarily  looked  to  where  he  had 
last  seen  the  mock  wolf,  and  was  just  in  time  to  dis- 
cover the  red  marksman  spring  erect  and  throw 
aside  the  skin  that  had  served  him  so  well. 

Then,  with  loud  yells,  out  of  the  timber  came  a 
trio  of  Sioux  braves,  mounted  on  wiry  ponies  and 
leading  the  animal  of  their  comrade. 

They  only  made  a  sorry  pretense  of  chasing  the 
tumbling,  tossing  herd,  and  Karl's  experienced  eye 
saw  at  once  that  their  ponies  were  utterly  worn  out 
with  a  long  night  ride,  which  doubtless  accounted 
for  their  adoption  of  the  old-time  wolf  project. 

"The  game  is  in  our  hands — we  must  ride  a  few 
miles  before  we  open  the  ball.  Now,  mount  and 
away,"  was  what  he  said. 

They  vaulted  into  the  saddle;  one  touch  of  the 
quirt  and  the  horses  bounded  out  from  the  timber 
upon  the  open. 

Already  the  alarmed  and  demoralized  buffalo  had 
commenced  to  string  by,  so  that  the  best  they  could 
do  would  be  to  fall  in  behind  and  stick  close  to  them 
until  the  time  came  to  use  firearms. 

As  they  galloped  along  they  plainly  heard  a  chorus 
of  angry  yells  borne  on  the  wind,  and  could  easily 


A  Dakota  Blizzard.  77 

determine  that  the  quartette  of  Indians  had  wit- 
nessed their  appearance  with  a  consuming  rage, 
doubtless  under  the  belief  that,  but  for  their  pres- 
ence, the  entire  herd  might  have  fallen  into  their 
hands  as  prizes. 

For  the  time  Cuthbert  forgot  all  about  these  dis- 
appointed braves;  the  excitement  attending  the 
chase  was  enough  to  hold  his  attention. 

Often  had  he  read  vivid  descriptions  of  just  such 
a  scene,  and  it  was  hard  to  realize  that  he  was  ex- 
periencing its  joys  now. 

Karl  did  not  urge  his  broncho. 

A  few  miles  more  or  less  between  themselves  and 
that  ugly  quartette  of  red  hunters  would  not  come 
amiss. 

Destiny  brings  these  rivals  together  many  times  in 
the  chase,  and  tragedies  have  followed. 

At  the  proper  time  a  little  burst  of  speed  would 
place  them  alongside,  and  in  a  position  to  give  a 
good  account  of  themselves. 

Several  times  Karl  turned  in  the  saddle  and 
looked  back.  Doubtless  even  his  cautious  soul  was 
finally  satisfied,  for  he  gave  the  word  that  meant  the 
closing  scene  in  the  hunt  was  about  to  occur. 

When  Cuthbert  found  himself  riding  alongside  a 
bull  with  a  massive  head,  he  had  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  getting  his  gun  aimed,  for  it  takes  much 
practice  to  shoot  with  certainty  on  horseback  when 
careering  over  the  prairie  at  full  speed. 

Thus  his  first  and  second  shots  appeared  to  only 
wound  the  great  bison,  and  the  next  thing  he  knew 
his  horse  had  shied  just  in  time  to  avoid  the  cruel 
black  horns  of  the  bull,  that  had  charged  with  his 
head  down. 

The  old  fellow  evidently  believed  in  turning  the 
tables,  for  he  organized  an  immediate  chase. 

It  was  exciting  enough,  to  be  sure ;  but,  somehow, 


78  A  Dakota  Blizzard. 

Cuthbert  did  not  enjoy  being  hunted  quite  so  much 
as  when  he  was  doing  the  chasing. 

To  use  his  gun  now  was  impossible,  since  all  his 
attention  must  be  taken  up  with  his  frightened  horse. 

The  old  bull  kept  up  the  chase  with  a  determina- 
tion that  did  him  credit,  but  Karl  had  sung  out  some 
directions  as  well  as  he  could  for  laughing,  and,  by 
degrees,  Cuthbert  circled  around  so  as  to  cross  the 
path  of  his  companion,  who  speedily  accomplished 
the  job  wherein  the  tenderfoot  had  failed,  by  plac- 
ing a  bullet  where  it  would  do  the  most  good. 

When  next  Cuthbert  selected  a  victim,  he  was 
careful  that  it  should  be  a  youngster,  and  in  this 
instance  he  managed  matters  so  well  that  Karl 
shouted  his  approval. 

Since  the  cowboy  had  also  secured  a  third  victim 
in  a  cow,  they  had  reached  the  limit  previously  set 
to  mark  their  necessities,  and  the  chase  was  accord- 
ingly abandoned. 

The  last  they  saw  of  the  buffalo  herd  was  a  cloud 
of  dust  to  southward,  showing  that  their  natural  in- 
stinct turned  them  away  from  the  land  where  bliz- 
zards would  soon  lock  rivers,  mountains  and  prairie 
in  a  prison  of  ice  and  snow. 

Now  Cuthbert  had  new  lessons  to  learn  in  re- 
moving the  hide  and  securing  such  portions  of  the 
meat  as  could  be  used. 

He  was  no  laggard,  and  had  already  become  fairly 
proficient  in  this  hunter's  accomplishment  with  re- 
gard to  smaller  game,  so  that  a  little  more  ex- 
perience increased  his  store  of  knowledge. 

It  took  time  to  do  it  all;  indeed,  hours  crept  by 
ere  the  meat  was  secured  within  the  hides,  made 
into  packages  and  securely  fastened  to  the  big  gray, 
utilized  as  a  packhorse  for  this  one  special  occasion. 

Frequently  Karl  had  raised  his  head  to  sweep  the 
prairie  with  his  eyes,  and  particularly  in  the  quarter 
whence  they  had  come,  for  well  he  knew  that  some- 


A  Dakota  Blizzard.  79 

where  in  that  direction  the  four  angry  Sioux  braves 
still  aired  their  grievance  while  they  packed  meat. 

"See  here,  Cuthbert,"  he  said,  at  last.  "We've 
like  as  not  said  good-by  to  them  red  fellers,  but 
there's  worse  going  to  happen." 

"All  right;  I'm  ready  for  the  next  item  on  the 
programme,"  said  Cuthbert,  lightly,  for,  now  that 
the  Indians  were  out  of  sight,  he  was  inclined  to 
laugh  at  the  episode. 

"Say,  haven't  you  noticed  that  it's  been  getting 
colder?"  asked  Karl,  and  there  was  a  look  in  his 
face  that  made  Cuthbert  serious  at  once. 

The  atmosphere  had,  indeed,  suddenly  changed, 
and  it  was  several  degrees  colder  than  at  sunrise; 
indeed,  while  the  boys  were  working  they  several 
times  mechanically  paused  to  slap  their  arms  vig- 
orously about  to  induce  circulation  and  restore 
warmth  to  their  benumbed  digits. 

To  Karl,  brought  up  amid  the  dangers  of  the 
great  prairie,  there  was  a  significance  in  this  drop 
of  the  temperature  that  it  would  be  folly  to  over- 
look. 

"Sure's  you're  born,  we're  in  for  a  blizzard,"  he 
said,  emphatically. 

That  word  had  no  particular  terror  for  Cuthbert 
as  yet — he  thought  he  knew  what  a  storm  meant, 
but  after  he  had  passed  through  one  experience  of 
this  sort,  it  would  have  a  new  significance,  and  the 
very  mention  of  the  word  must  ever  cause  an  icy 
chill  to  chase  up  and  down  his  spinal  column. 

According  to  the  cowboy's  reckoning,  the  condi- 
tions were  all  favorable  for  such  a  catastrophe, 
though  it  was  as  yet  early  in  the  season  for  so  grim  a 
visitant. 

To  his  credit  be  it  said,  Karl's  worry  of  mind  was 
mostly  in  connection  with  the  cattle  out  upon  the 
range — they  must  suffer  more  or  less,  though  the 


80  A  Dakota  Blizzard. 

early  date  gave  him  reason  to  hope  they  might  not 
be  subjected  to  a  severe  trial. 

Just  as  they  cinched  the  load  upon  the  spirited 
gray,  and  were  ready  to  jump  into  the  saddle,  the 
first  snowflakes  came  sailing  down  from  the  dull 
gray  sky,  a  small  circumstance  in  itself,  but  one  that 
gave  the  prairie  boy  much  uneasiness. 

When  one  of  these  Western  storms  starts  in,  it 
means  business  from  the  word  go — they  have  the 
same  "hustle"  that  pervades  everything  typical  of 
the  wide  horizon. 

In  two  minutes  the  air  was  full  of  snow,  and 
when  twice  that  time  had  elapsed  they  were  en- 
veloped in  a  white  blanket. 

With  the  snow  came  the  keen  wind,  gaining  force 
as  it  sped  across  the  level  plain,  unloosed  from  the 
lair  of  the  Northern  Ice  King. 

Ugh!  how  it  penetrated,  despite  warm  garments. 

Cuthbert  was  experiencing  a  revelation — he  had 
never  before  known  what  a  keen-edged  blizzard 
breath  felt  like,  nor  could  he  honestly  say  he  was  at 
all  charmed  with  the  sample. 

As  usual,  Karl  kept  his  wits  about  him,  ready  to 
observe  whatever  was  going  on  and  take  advantage 
of  opportunities  as  they  chanced  to  arise. 

"We  got  to  run  for  it,"  he  cried ;  "home  lies  'most 
in  the  teeth  of  the  blizzard,  and  we'd  be  fools  to  try 
to  make  Sunset  Ranch  till  the  storm  shuts  down." 

Shelter,  then,  was  what  they  sought. 

His  knowledge  of  the  country  would  be  of  con- 
siderable benefit  to  them. 

The  wind  was  apt  to  shift,  so  that  it  could  not 
be  depended  on  for  guidance.  Karl  kept  his  com- 
pass where  he  could  see  it,  though  with  the  blind- 
ing snow  and  the  appalling  gloom  that  had  fallen 
over  the  scene  it  was  only  by  means  of  a  determined 
effort  he  could  make  out  which  way  the  finger 
pointed. 


A  Dakota  Blizzard.  81 

Already  sage  brush,  scattered  here  and  there,  to- 
gether with  cacti,  resembled  little  hillocks,  with  the 
snow  piled  up  against  them,  such  of  it  as  was  not  in 
circulation,  for  so  wild  was  the  howling  wind  that 
the  air  seemed  to  be  one  mass  of  flying  particles  of 
ice  that  lashed  the  face  most  pitilessly,  and  cut  like 
needles. 

Their  progress  was  dreadfully  slow. 

Indeed,  the  horses  could  not  have  gone  at  all 
against  the  blizzard,  and  with  it  on  one  side  suffered 
severely  enough. 

Cuthbert's  mind  involuntarily  went  back  to  the 
time  when  he  had  galloped  over  perhaps  this  same 
ground,  pursued  by  the  flashing,  leaping  fire — 
quite  a  startling  contrast  when  compared  with  his 
present  experiences,  and  he  could  hardly  say  which 
of  the  two  evils  was  the  greater,  save  that  the  pres- 
ent one  always  looms  up  more  hugely. 

The  minutes  dragged  into  hours — they  seemed 
ages  to  the  boys,  who  were  perilously  near  the  point 
of  perishing. 

"Say,  couldn't  we  stop  for  a  minute  or  two,  just  to 
let  the  blood  get  back  into  our  veins?"  suggested 
Cuthbert. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  would  mean?" 

"Great  risk,  I  suppose." 

"More." 

"What  then?" 

"Death.  Our  only  hope  is  to  push  on  or  strike 
some  brush." 

Both  boys  rode  on  in  silence. 

Karl  could  hardly  see  his  compass  to  make  sure 
of  their  line  of  flight,  and  his  fingers  were  too  much 
like  lumps  of  ice  to  do  duty  in  the  way  of  feeling; 
but  he  had  a  firm  conviction  they  were  on  the  right 
road,  and  that  the  timber  must  surely  show  up  soon. 

If,  by  any  ill  luck,  he  had  made  a  mistake,  it  was 
apt  to  prove  fatal  to  them. 


82  A  Dakota  Blizzard. 

He  said  nothing  of  this,  but  continued  to  cheer  his 
companion,  whose  spirits  had  begun  to  droop  under 
the  terrific  strain. 

There  was  no  sign  of  a  break ;  these  storms  often 
last  three  days,  and  have  been  known  to  hold  out 
five  or  six. 

The  only  wonder  is  that  any  living  thing  in  the 
way  of  animal  life  survives  their  fury. 

Cuthbert  was  almost  benumbed;  he  could  only 
with  the  greatest  difficulty  maintain  his  seat  in  the 
saddle,  and  was  rapidly  reaching  that  dangerous  con- 
dition when  it  would  really  become  a  matter  of  utter 
indifference  to  him  whether  they  found  shelter  or 
not. 

It  was,  therefore,  just  in  time  that  timber  hove 
in  sight.  To  the  boys  it  promised  an  asylum — 
safety,  warmth,  life. 

Even  the  utterly-fagged  horses  knew  the  end  of 
their  trial  was  close  at  hand,  for  they  seemed  to 
push  forward  with  renewed  zeal. 

Cuthbert  made  an  effort  and  aroused  himself  from 
the  half-stupor  into  which  he  had  fallen. 

So,  with  a  shout  of  joy,  they  pushed  on  and  pres- 
ently found  refuge  under  the  trees. 

Here,  while  the  cold  was  still  severe,  the  backbone 
of  that  piercing  wind  was  broken,  and  when  the  boys 
crawled  stiffly  from  the  saddles,  to  which  they  had 
actually  been  frozen  tight,  they  managed,  by  means 
of  rough-and-tumble  exercise,  in  which  each  pum- 
meled  the  other  most  vigorously,  to  induce  a  new 
circulation  of  blood  that  began  to  give  internal 
warmth. 

"Caesar!  How  it  wars!"  said  Cuthbert,  as  he 
glanced  up  at  the  lowering  clouds  and  heard  behind 
the  furious  blasts  of  the  blizzard. 

"Tain't  much!"  said  Karl,  nonchalantly.  "I've 
been  through  much  worse ;  but  this  ain't  no  time  to 
get  spoutin'.  Comfortable,  Cuthbert?" 


A  Dakota  Blizzard.  83 

"You  bet,"  said  Cuthbert,  and  he  nodded  signifi- 
cantly out  to  where  the  storm  still  raged. 

"Guess  we  might  start  a  fire  a-going,"  suggested 
Karl. 

"Why,  sure,"  said  Cuthbert;  "that's  just  the 
thing."" 

And,  springing  up,  the  two  boys  scoured  the  im- 
mediate timber  for  fallen  limbs. 

Suddenly  Cuthbert  called  out : 

"Hi,  Karl,  here's  a  find!" 

Karl  rushed  to  his  side. 

"Gee  whittaker!"  he  yelled.  "We're  playing  in 
luck.  Now,  jest  who  flung  up  this  old  log  cabin 
here,  I  wonder?" 

It  was  in  fairly  decent  condition,  and  while  the 
door  had  fallen  from  its  leather  hinges,  that  mat- 
tered little,  as  the  opening  was  toward  the  south. 
It  was  a  godsend  to  the  boys,  and  they  proceeded 
to  make  themselves  at  home. 

"Say,  I  remember!"  suddenly  exclaimed  Karl. 
"A  lone  trapper  owned  this  shanty.  The  feller  used 
to  store  beaver  pelts  and  some  other  skins,  and  I 
reckon  he's  dead  now.  Any  old  way,  we're  here  an' 
he's  not,  and  that's  all  there's  to  it." 

"Them's  my  sentiments,"  quoth  Cuthbert. 

It  was  a  most  wonderful  freak  of  fortune  that  they 
should  have  run  across  this  old  cabin — one  chance 
in  a  thousand,  and  all  the  more  acceptable  on  that 
account. 

At  once  they  took  possession,  and  presently  had  a 
cheery  blaze  started  on  the  hearth  that  still  bore 
the  blackend  embers  of  what  was  possibly  the  poor 
old  trapper's  last  fire. 

How  good  it  felt !  New  life  seemed  to  come  with 
the  reaction,  and  while  Cuthbert  kept  accumulating 
wood,  Karl  carried  in  the  packages  of  buffalo  meat, 
and  then  secured  the  horses  at  the  leeward  side  of 


84  A  Dakota  Blizzard. 

the  house,  where  they  might  get  some  advantage 
from  its  shelter. 

Their  fright  over,  the  boys  could  now  afford  to 
joke  about  the  weary  march,  but  Cuthbert  was  not 
so  wholly  recovered  that  he  did  not  shiver  when  an 
extra  loud  and  piercing  blast  shook  the  tall  cotton- 
woods. 

Still,  dangers  past  often  assume  a  more  or  less 
humorous  aspect,  especially  in  the  eyes  of  buoyant 
youth,  and  it  was  not  very  long  before  the  two  cast- 
aways were  laughing  hilariously  over  the  figure 
Cuthbert  presented  riding  for  dear  life  with  a 
wounded  bison  at  his  heels. 

"Say,  Karl,  do  you  know  what  I  feel  like?"  asked 
Cuthbert,  after  staring  dreamily  into  the  glowing 
logs. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  jest  what  you  feel  like,  but 
you  don't  look  over  and  above  anything  but  a  kid 
anybody  had  oughter  envy." 

Cuthbert  laughed. 

"Well,  Karl,  I  feel  more  like  a  shriveled  up 
mummy  than  a  boy  just  now." 

"And  what's  a  mummy?"  inquired  Karl. 

"What!  never  saw  a  mummy?" 

"Not  to  know,"  said  Karl. 

Cuthbert  almost  screamed  with  laughter. 

"Why,  old  chap,  a  mummy  is  a  man  that  lived 
thousands  of  years  ago,  and  whose  body's  still  kept 
in  a  kind  of  coffin." 

"Say,  what  are  you  giving  us?"  demanded  Karl. 

"Oh,  here's  something  I  must  tell  you,  Karl,"  and 
Cuthbert  launched  into  a  disquisition  upon  the  won- 
derful depositories  of  the  dead  Pharaohs. 

"S'pose  them  fellers  you've  been  talking  'bout 
didn't  eat  buffalo !"  said  Karl  suddenly. 

"Buffalo !"  exclaimed  Cuthbert. 

"Sure!     Fried  buffalo." 


A  Dakota  Blizzard.  85 

"I  guess  they  didn't.  That  is  something  that  I 
haven't  sampled  yet  myself." 

Karl  made  a  dive  for  one  of  the  packages  of  buf- 
falo and  it  was  soon  being  broiled  in  a  primitive  way 
over  the  red  embers. 

"Now,  what  d'ye  think  of  buffalo?"  said  Karl,  as, 
a  little  later,  he  watched  Cuthbert  making  deep  in- 
cisions, with  evident  relish,  into  a  luscious  morsel 
he  had  cut  off  with  his  knife. 

"Say,  Karl,  this  is  the  finest  bit  of  steak  I've  ever 
eaten." 

"I  thought  so." 

"And  so  tender !  Why,  I  thought  the  thing  would 
be  like  leather." 

"You'll  learn,"  said  Karl,  with  a  wise  shake  of  his 
head. 

"I  think  I've  learned  already,"  said  Cuthbert, 
laughing.  "Got  any  more  of  this?" 

"Yes ;  but  we  may  want  it." 

"Why,  you  don't  think  the  blizzard  is  going  to 
last?" 

"For  days,  mebbe,"  said  Karl,  decidedly. 

Cuthbert  looked  aghast. 

"But  don't  let  that  worry  you,"  continued  Karl. 
"What's  the  matter  with  the  log  cabin  ?" 

"It's  all  right;  but  I'd  rather  be  at  the  ranch." 

"Course  you  would;  but  you've  got  to  stay  right 
to  here  till  the  storm  blows  itself  out.  We've  got 
enough  to  last  us  fer  a  day  or  two,  and  the  horses 
can  get  feed  among  the  trees." 

"Well,  I  suppose  there's  nothing  for  it  but  to 
make  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  possible  in  the  cir- 
cumstances," said  Karl,  resignedly. 

The  day  wore  on. 

As  Karl  had  expected,  the  early  storm  was  not 
likely  to  be  as  severe  in  regard  to  the  length  of  its 
stay  as  others  that  might  be  expected  later. 

Already  there  were  signs  of  its  breaking,  though 


86  A  Dakota  Blizzard. 

it  would  probably  hold  on  by  fits  and  starts  until 
another  day. 

The  wind  still  blew,  but  had  lost  much  of  its  pierc- 
ing vigor,  though,  when  they  went  to  the  edge  of 
the  timber  the  vast  expanse  of  prairie  was  just  as 
thoroughly  blotted  out  as  when  they  struggled  along 
with  the  chances  of  escape  or  death  about  evenly 
divided. 

Gratitude  surged  through  both  their  hearts  as 
they  realized  what  they  had  escaped,  and  they  went 
back  to  the  old  cabin  more  thankful  than  they  could 
find  words  to  express. 

How  cheerful  it  seemed  there  in  contrast  with 
what  lay  beyond!  Karl  wondered  if  any  herders 
they  knew  would  not  be  able  to  catch  their  cat- 
tle and  find  safety  in  the  timber;  for  every  winter 
more  than  a  few  herders  were  lost  on  the  range, 
frozen  sometimes  within  three  hundred  feet  of  a 
cabin,  which  could  not  be  seen  in  the  blinding,  mad- 
dening, freezing  whirl  of  fine  snow. 

It  was  getting  on  well  toward  evening,  and  the 
two  boys  began  to  cast  wistful  glances  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  buffalo  meat,  for  such  healthy  appetites 
require  a  tremendous  amount  of  feeding. 

Cuthbert  had  stepped  out  to  melt  some  snow  in 
his  mouth,  feeling  thirsty,  when  he  came  hastily  back 
with  a  look  on  his  face  that  told  of  new  excitement. 

"Ah!  there,  what's  up?"  asked  Karl,  seeing  him 
take  his  rifle  and  make  for  the  door  again. 

"A  wolf  hanging  around — I  heard  him  howl,"  was 
the  answer  Cuthbert  flung  back. 

"Be  careful — there  are  two-legged  wolves  in  this 
section,  you  know,"  laughed  Karl. 

Then,  struck  by  a  sudden  thought,  he  followed  his 
companion  to  the  edge  of  the  prairie. 

"Hark!"  said  the  tenderfoot,  eagerly. 

Borne  on  the  wind  came  a  sound  that  was  not  un- 


A  Dakota  Blizzard.  87 

like  the  howl  of  a  wolf,  but  no  sooner  had  Karl 
heard  it  than  he  became  strangely  excited. 

"Drop  your  gun  and  follow  me,"  he  exclaimed, 
plunging  into  the  snow,  and  then  calling  back  over 
his  shoulder:  "Because  that's  a  cry  fer  help  from 
some  poor  wretch  lost  out  yonder  in  the  freeze !" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  GRAND  ROUND-UP. 

All  that  was  noble  and  manly  in  the  young  Vir- 
ginian awakened  into  life  when  he  heard  his  com- 
panion thus  declare  that  a  human  life  was  in  peril 
out  yonder  in  the  whirling,  sifting  snow  that  was 
borne  on  the  pitiless  wind  of  the  Arctic  blizzard. 

His  own  painful  experience  had  been  so  very  re- 
cent that  he  could  fully  sympathize  with  the  feelings 
of  any  one  confronted  by  such  a  dismal  outlook. 

At  Karl's  suggestion,  then,  he  dropped  the  rifle 
where  he  could  easily  find  it  again,  and  plunged  into 
the  storm,  intent  only  upon  saving  a  human  life. 

The  chances  were  decidedly  in  favor  of  the  lost  and 
imperiled  one  being  an  Indian,  but,  to  the  credit  of 
the  boys,  be  it  said  that  neither  of  them  gave  a  sec- 
ond of  time  to  considering  whether  or  not  it  were 
worth  risking  their  own  precious  lives  for  a  misera- 
ble red  man. 

Both  of  them  were  in  prime  fettle  now  to  do  bat- 
tle with  the  shrinking  blizzard. 

The  long  rest  beside  a  warm  fire,  together  with  a 
generous  meal,  had  put  new  life  and  vigor  into  the 
erstwhile  half-frozen  and  almost  despairing  lads,  so 
that  they  buffeted  the  shrieking  blast  without  diffi- 
culty. 

Karl  had  located  the  cry  for  help,  and  kept  his 
bearings  as  only  a  prairie-born  lad  might  under  such 
confusing  conditions. 

Straight  as  a  die  he  pushed  his  way  out  upon  the 
prairie  until  he  believed  they  must  be  very  close  to 
the  spot  whence  had  sprung  that  involuntary,  hope- 
less cry,  such  as  despair  wrings  from  a  lost  soul. 

Cuthbert  floundered  to  his  side. 


The  Grand  Round-Up.  89 

Now  that  the  bitter  edge  was  taken  from  the  wind, 
and  its  fierceness  diminished,  the  snow  found  a 
chance  to  settle  in  drifts,  and  this  made  it  hard  trav- 
eling. 

"Listen,  while  I  give  a  whoop !"  shouted  Karl,  fol- 
lowing his  words  by  a  lusty  cry  that  might  have 
been  heard  quite  a  distance  around. 

There  was  no  answer,  save  the  mocking  laughter 
of  the  keen  north  wind. 

Could  Karl  have  made  a  mistake,  or  had  the  un- 
fortunate whose  cry  reached  their  ears  already  suc- 
cumbed to  the  exposure? 

Karl  believed  the  latter  must  be  the  case. 

When  a  second  still  more  vigorous  shout  of  en- 
couragement failed  to  meet  with  any  response,  he 
directed  his  companion  to  move  about  in  short  cir- 
cuits in  order  to  see  whether  any  discovery  would 
follow. 

At  first  there  was  no  result. 

Karl  was  possessed  of  an  astonishing  amount  of 
insistence,  and  would  never  give  up  a  project  so  long 
as  the  slightest  hope  remained,  and,  consequently, 
kept  up  the  search,  gradually  changing  his  base. 

It  was  Karl  who  stumbled  over  some  object  cov- 
ered with  snow,  and  which  he  instantly  discovered 
to  be  a  human  being. 

His  cheery  hail  brought  Cuthbert  to  his  side,  and 
between  them  they  raised  the  almost  stiff  form  of 
an  Indian  brave,  and  staggered  along  with  the  bur- 
den in  the  direction  of  the  timber. 

Such  sturdy  lads  were  capable  of  exerting  con- 
siderable strength  under  such  an  inspiration  as  sav- 
ing human  life  must  always  be,  but  when  they  finally 
drew  up  at  the  old  cabin,  even  they  were  nearly  ex- 
hausted. 

As  the  light  of  the  still  glowing  fire  fell  upon  the 
features  of  the  half-frozen  Indian,  Karl  started,  then 
rubbed  his  eyes. 


90  The  Grand  Round-Up. 

"Say,  that's  the  little  chap  who  thought  he'd  lick 
Buckskin." 

"It  looks  like  Little  Buckshot  all  right,"  assented 
Cuthbert. 

"Looks  like !"  repeated  Karl.  'That's  the  feller, 
on  your  new  saddle !" 

"Well,  he'll  thank  us  for  this,  no  matter  about 
whether  he  hates  you  or  not.  Hello,  Karl,  what  are 
you  going  to  do !" 

"Never  mind,  only  fill  your  hands  full  of  snow." 

Cuthbert  looked  mildly  astonished. 

"Hadn't  you  better  put  Little  Buckshot  up  near 
the  fire?"  he  suggested. 

"What!  do  you  want  to  kill  him  outright,  if  he 
ain't  dead  already?"  shouted  Karl,  with  scorn  in  his 
voice.  "Here,  you  do  as  I  tell  you  and  ask  no  ques- 
tions. I've  seen  many  fellers  lie  down  in  the  snow 
and  beg  to  be  let  'sleep  in  peace,'  and  I  guess  I  had 
ought  to  know  what  to  do  in  a  case  of  this  kind." 

He  began  rubbing  the  young  Indian  with  snow  to 
take  out  the  frost,  and  set  Cuthbert  to  work  chafing 
his  limbs,  so  as  to  induce  circulation. 

As  a  last  resort  Karl  even  pummeled  him  as  if  he 
were  kneading  bread. 

If  a  spark  of  life  remained  in  Mr.  Lo's  poor  body 
it  was  bound  to  be  fanned  into  a  lively  flame  under 
such  vigorous  treatment. 

Success  rewarded  their  efforts. 

By  degrees  the  exhausted  Indian  boy — for  he  was 
hardly  more,  though  proud  to  call  himself  a  brave — 
came  back  to  life. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  he  sat  up,  and  soon  after 
was  on  his  feet,  slapping  his  arms,  and  in  others  ways 
causing  the  warm  blood  to  tingle  in  his  extremities. 

Meawhile,  once  more  the  odor  of  cooking  buffalo 
meat  permeated  the  old  wreck  of  a  cabin,  which  had 
probably  been  the  scene  of  many  a  similar  feast  in 
days  of  yore. 


The  Grand  Round-Up.  91 

Cuthbert  went  out  to  get  his  rifle  and  see  how 
the  storm  fared. 

This  time  he  heard  the  howls  of  wolves  in  the  tim- 
ber beyond  a  peradventure,  and  found  the  three 
horses  very  uneasy,  so  that  he  had  reason  to  believe 
it  would  be  necessary  to  keep  guard  all  through  the 
night,  lest  the  ferocious  beasts  make  an  assault  on 
their  mounts  and  leave  them  afoot  far  from  the 
ranch. 

When  he  entered  the  cabin,  Little  Buckshot  was 
gorging  himself  with  the  tender  and  juicy  meat 
which  Karl  spread  before  him  in  such  liberal  quanti- 
ties. 

Doubtless  never  before  in  all  his  life  had  hot  food 
tasted  so  good. 

The  others  were  soon  satisfied,  and  watched  his 
remarkable  exploit  with  wondering  and  admiring 
eyes,  for  the  capacity  of  a  cold  and  hungry  Indian  is 
beyond  belief. 

It  was  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  his  head  that  this 
white  boy,  whom  he  hated  because  the  other's  su- 
perior qualities  as  a  rider  had  humiliated  him  in  the 
presence  of  his  people,  should  be  the  one  to  snatch 
him  from  death. 

An  Indian  is  far  from  demonstrative,  and  Cuth- 
bert was  anxious  to  know  how  he  would  act. 

The  dinner,  no  doubt,  made  Little  Buckshot  feel 
remarkably  good,  as  it  does  every  human  being. 

He  walked  gravely  up  to  the  two  white  lads  and 
shook  each  of  them  by  the  hand — Cuthbert  thought 
he  looked  as  sober  as  though  attending  a  funeral  in 
the  bosom  of  his  tribe.  Then  he  spoke : 

"Brothers,  Little  Buckshot  no  forget.  You  save 
um  life;  me  come  back  sometime,  mebbe.  How?" 

Cuthbert  managed  to  gather  from  this  remarkable 
speech  that  the  young  buck  acknowledged  his  debt 
and  hoped  some  day  to  repay  it. 

Meanwhile  all  rancor  had  been  swept  from  his 


92  The  Grand  Round-Up. 

heart — he  would  treat  them  as  brothers,  and  risk  his 
life,  if  need  be,  to  return  the  favor. 

An  Indian  never  forgets  good  or  evil,  in  which  he 
differs  materially  from  his  superior  white  cousin. 

The  night  had  fallen. 

It  still  stormed,  though  the  wind  had  seen  its  best, 
and  the  fall  of  feathery  flakes  grew  hourly  less 
heavy. 

But  for  the  cabin  being  so  very  small,  Karl  would 
have  brought  the  nags  inside,  in  order  to  make  them 
more  comfortable. 

As  a  next  resort,  he  and  Little  Buckshot,  who 
was  pleased  to  temporarily  don  Cuthbert's  heavy 
jacket  while  at  work  outside,  made  a  rough  shelter 
of  fallen  branches  that  would  serve  in  lieu  of  a  lean- 
to  for  the  horses. 

They,  too,  had  heard  the  hungry  wolves  close  to 
camp — doubtless  scenting  the  store  of  fresh  buffalo 
meat — and  were  of  the  opinion  that  only  by  means 
of  a  strict  vigil  could  the  horses  be  saved. 

It  was  far  from  a  pleasant  task,  but  Western  lads 
become  early  accustomed  to  the  rigors  of  camp  life, 
and  Cuthbert  proved  an  apt  pupil. 

There  were  occasions  when  the  wolves  seemed  on 
the  point  of  making  a  rush  upon  the  tethered  horses, 
and  it  became  necessary  to  bowl  over  the  most  im- 
portunate in  order  to  intimidate  the  rest. 

Thus  night  passed  away. 

Ere  morning  dawned  the  stars  shone  out,  proving 
that  the  storm  was  over.  Being  an  early  visitor,  it 
had  not  the  staying  qualities  that  marked  those  of 
midwinter. 

Little  Buckshot  had,  in  his  own  queer  way,  told 
them  the  story  of  his  adventure.  It  did  not  differ 
much  from  their  own  experience,  only  that  it  had 
been  so  prolonged  as  to  reach  the  dread  climax  from 
which  they  rescued  him. 

Early  during  the  storm  the  little  party  had  been 


The  Grand  Round-Up.  93 

scattered,  one  being  lost  here  and  another  there,  un- 
til the  chief's  son  found  himself  alone  with  his  laden 
horse. 

Through  the  hours  he  pushed  on,  fighting  against 
the  frost,  until  his  exhausted  pony  dropped  in  his 
tracks. 

Little  Buckshot  believed  he  was  near  timber,  and 
had  tried  to  make  it,  but  the  effort  was  too  much 
for  him,  and  he  sank  in  the  drifts;  the  shout  our 
boys  heard  and  thought  to  be  a  call  for  help  was  in 
reality  what  he  meant  to  be  his  last  despairing  death 
cry. 

The  load  was  taken  from  the  big  gray  and  equally 
distributed  around  among  the  others,  so  that  a 
mount  was  provided  for  the  redskin. 

Thus  they  set  out  for  Kelly's  ranch,  where  a  safe 
arrival  was  made,  Karl  having  taken  them  as  straight 
as  the  crow  flies. 

They  were  warmly  received,  some  fears  as  to  their 
safety  having  arisen. 

The  cowboys  had  managed  to  keep  the  stock  to- 
gether during  the  blizzard,  which  had  lasted  so  short 
a  time  that  little,  if  any,  damage  resulted. 

Little  Buckshot  was  desirous  of  reaching  the  vil- 
lage of  his  people  as  soon  as  possible  in  order  to 
organize  a  relief  expedition  to  search  for  his  unfortu- 
nate companions  who  might  not  have  met  with  the 
rescue  that  had  fallen  to  his  lot. 

If  they  could  not  save  the  young  braves,  it  would 
be  at  least  some  satisfaction  to  know  their  fate ;  and, 
besides — Indians  are  nothing  if  not  practical — there 
was  all  that  buffalo  meat  that  would  go  to  feed  the 
wolves  and  buzzards  if  not  found  in  a  reasonable 
time. 

So  Little  Buckshot  gravely  shook  hands  with  Karl 
and  Cuthbert. 

"Farewell,  brothers,"  he  said.    "Where  go  ?    Find 


94  The  Grand  Round-Up. 

chiefs.  No  find  chiefs,  come  back.  Good!  Buck- 
shot love  you,  and  say  no  forget — no  forget." 

And  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  was  off,  riding 
away  on  a  borrowed  horse,  with  his  head  held  erect 
and  the  pride  of  his  race  cropping  out  of  his  every 
movement. 

He  waved  his  hand  gracefully,  and  Karl  sang  out  a 
last  "so  long,"  after  which  the  lone  Indian  boy  gal- 
loped out  of  sight. 

The  young  range  riders  once  again  took  up  their 
duties,  and  Cuthbert  found  what  a  tough  time  might 
be  expected  in  following  the  business  through  the 
rigors  of  winter. 

Of  course,  the  weather  moderated  again,  and  they 
had  even  some  pleasant  days,  but  winter  was  close  at 
their  threshold,  and  all  preparations  had  been  made 
looking  to  an  especially  severe  season. 

The  X  bar  X  outfit  was  probably  as  well  equipped 
to  meet  the  cold  and  storm  of  winter  as  any  cattle 
ranch  in  that  region. 

Their  feeding  grounds  all  adjoined  valleys  or  tim- 
ber where  the  cattle  could  take  shelter  during  the 
continuance  of  a  blizzard,  and  from  whence  they 
must  be  driven  in  time  to  the  more  exposed  range 
to  avoid  their  starving  to  death. 

Cuthbert  did  his  part  well.  He  was  proud  to 
"hold  up  his  end  of  the  row,"  as  the  boys  aptly  ex- 
pressed it,  whether  in  herding  cattle,  stopping  a 
stampede  or  riding  a  bucking  broncho  without  "pull- 
ing leather" — that  is,  not  being  compelled  to  grasp 
the  saddle  horn  or  use  any  support  beyond  the 
stanch  bridle. 

Karl's  affection  grew  each  day. 

He  believed  some  kindly  Providence  had  dropped 
this  companion  down  there  for  him — just  such  a 
fearless,  frank,  easy-going  and  good-natured  chum 
as  every  bright  boy  longs  to  meet. 

They  were  never  happy  long  apart;  each  expe- 


The  Grand  Round-Up.  95 

rienced  a  nervous  restlessness  until  the  other  showed 
up. 

The  long,  severe  winter  drew  near  its  close. 

Kelly's  losses  had  been  severe,  but  they  were  small 
when  compared  with  others,  for  besides  choice  feed- 
ing ranges,  Sunset  Ranch  boasted  of  a  company  of 
cowboys  who  were  unsurpassed  for  their  skill  in 
herding. 

Few  animals  died  from  starvation,  even  though 
the  whole  outfit  kept  on  the  jump  the  better  part  of 
six  days,  when  the  most  stupendous  storm  of  the 
whole  winter  roared  over  prairie  and  hills,  with 
stinging  death  in  its  teeth. 

The  wolves  pulled  down  an  occasional  weakling, 
but  Karl  and  Cuthbert  took  ample  revenge  upon  the 
gray-coated  pirates  for  their  daring,  and  many  a 
freebooter  went  to  earth  before  their  guns  ere  the 
warmer  sun  of  April  began  to  thaw  out  creeks,  and 
snowbanks  melted  away. 

And  still  Cuthbert  had  not  spoken. 

Once  or  twice  he  had  thought  the  time  propitious, 
but  something  occurred  to  break  in  upon  their  pri- 
vacy; and,  besides,  he  had  a  sensitiveness  about 
speaking  of  family  matters  that  apparently  did  not 
reflect  any  great  lustre  upon  the  famous  Virginia 
name  of  Lee. 

So  that  Karl  could  only  surmise  what  might  be 
the  nature  of  the  trouble  that  sent  this  bright  young 
scion  of  a  noble  house  out  into  the  wilderness. 

He  really  bothered  his  head  very  little  about  the 
matter.  The  months  he  had  spent  in  Cuthbert's  so- 
ciety had  taught  him  all  he  cared  to  know  about  the 
Virginian,  and  he  would  have  staked  his  life  that 
the  other  was  incapable  of  a  mean  or  criminal  act. 

So,  by  degrees,  they  drew  near  the  end  of  May, 
when  the  great  annual  "round-up"  was  slated  to 
come  off. 


96  The  Grand  Round-Up. 

Of  course,  it  was  to  be  a  grand  affair,  and  one  that 
carried  with  it  severe  labors. 

Old  Sile  was  master  of  ceremonies,  as  he  had  served 
in  this  capacity  with  signal  success  on  many  past 
occasions. 

At  this  time  of  the  year  the  cattle  had  become 
more  or  less  mixed,  and  numerous  well-grown  calves 
made  their  advent  on  the  scene,  needing  attention 
and  the  mark  of  their  mothers. 

Cowboys  and  herders  from  all  around  came  troop- 
ing up  to  Sunset  Ranch. 

There  was  an  exhilaration  in  the  air  that  reminded 
Cuthbert  very  forcibly  of  the  days  when  the  circus 
came  to  the  little  Virginia  town  where  he  had  spent 
his  earlier  years — these  gayly  bedecked  cavaliers  of 
the  plains  galloping  hither  and  yon,  shouting,  and 
whirling  rings  of  tough  rope  through  the  air  to 
check  some  steer  that  insisted  on  breaking  away 
from  his  fellows.  How  like  knights  of  old  they 
appeared,  centaurs  of  modern  times,  able  to  accom- 
plish such  startling  feats  when  mounted  that  they 
seemed  to  be  a  part  of  the  animal  themselves ! 

It  was  a  glorious  spectacle,  when,  on  the  aus- 
picious morning,  General  Old  Sile  marshaled  his 
forces  for  the  day's  great  campaign. 

He  knew  where  every  bunch  of  cattle  was  to  be 
found,  and,  dividing  his  forces  so  as  to  suit  the  re- 
quirements of  the  occasion,  sent  this  little  squad 
whirling  off  to  the  north  to  round  up  the  cattle  on 
the  range  bordering  Cranberry  Run,  another  to  the 
east  to  look  after  the  drove  stretched  through  the 
timber  where  Karl  and  Cuthbert  had  weathered  the 
first  blizzard,  a  third  almost  due  south  in  search  of  a 
wandering  herd  last  seen  in  the  region  of  Timber- 
man's  Coulee,  and  with  an  unusually  large  number 
of  youngsters  among  them. 

So  they  radiated  in  parties  of  from  five  to  ten,  like 


The  Grand  Round-Up.  97 

spokes  from  the  hub  of  a  wheel,  reaching  out  to 
every  quarter  of  the  compass. 

The  boys  were  the  last  to  get  orders,  and  they 
were  secretly  delighted  when  Old  Sile  attached  him- 
self to  their  squad. 

"Guess  ye  think  I  had  ought  to  be  home,"  said  the 
veteran,  with  a  smile,  as  Cuthbert  looked  at  him  in- 
quiringly. "An  old  feller  like  me  hadn't  ought  to 
be  out  with  young  bucks;  but  I  kinder  like  to  see 
young  America  work." 

And  he  nodded  approval  as  Karl  and  Cuthbert 
ambled  alongside. 

They  had  quite  a  sharp  gallop  before  they 
reached  the  broken  country  where  the  cattle  as- 
signed to  their  care  might  be  found. 

Of  course,  the  first  duty  was  to  ride  round  and 
round  the  scattered  herd,  "milling"  them  in  the  cow- 
boy parlance,  that  is  grinding  them  closer  into  a 
compact  bunch,  so  that  they  could  be  readily  driven, 
once  started,  in  any  direction  desired. 

With  schoolboy  shouts  they  started  the  bunch  to- 
ward the  ranch. 

Other  herds  were  converging  that  way,  so  that 
the  whole  prairie  seemed  alive  with  bellowing  cat- 
tle, and  shouting  herders,  wheeling  to  the  right  and 
to  the  left  as  their  practiced  eye  detected  and  antici- 
pated some  movement  on  the  part  of  their  charges 
that,  if  left  without  attention,  might  have  developed 
seriously. 

Cuthbert  had  never  in  all  his  life  beheld  so  glori- 
ous a  spectacle. 

While  the  latter  were  being  driven  in  he  had  hur- 
ried to  the  Kelly  ranch  building  where  he  even 
mounted  to  the  ridgepole  of  the  house,  the  better 
from  this  apology  for  an  eyrie  to  take  in  the  whole 
panorama  around  the  circular  horizon.  Every- 
where he  saw  lowing  herds  and  rollicking  cowboys, 
bent  upon  making  this  grand  work  day  of  the  year  a 


98  The  Grand  Round-Up. 

picnic  occasion,  when  the  results  of  the  season  might 
become  facts  to  be  set  down  in  cold  black  and  white 
— it  was  certainly  a  picture  to  forever  haunt  a  mind 
delighting  in  scenes  of  excitement. 

The  green,  flower-studded  prairie  and  the  blue 
heavens  overhead,  where  buzzards  floated  and  vul- 
tures soared,  made  a  noble  setting  for  the  scene,  and 
Cuthbert  was  so  captivated  that  he  heaved  a  tre- 
mendous sigh  of  regret  when  compelled  to  desert  his 
perch,  the  voice  of  Karl  calling  his  name,  indicat- 
ing that  his  services  were  in  demand  below. 

When  the  great  herds  had  been  gathered  into 
temporary  corrals,  or  stockades,  some  made  of  tim- 
ber, but  the  majority  of  rope,  the  main  business  of 
the  day  began. 

This  was  in  cutting  out  all  unbranded  youngsters 
and  what  few  older  animals  had  escaped  the  iron  on 
the  previous  tally. 

It  was  lively  work. 

In  turn  each  cowboy  selected  his  quarry,  man- 
oeuvred to  separate  it  from  the  balance  of  the  bunch, 
and  when  finally  his  object  in  this  particular  had 
been  accomplished  the  rope  was  thrown,  generally 
with  unerring  hand,  drawn  taut  by  a  skillful  move 
on  the  part  of  the  trained  broncho,  and  the  lassoed 
beast  thrown  to  the  ground. 

Then  came  the  others  to  examine,  perchance  to 
admire,  but  always  to  press  the  hot  iron  against  hair 
and  hide — there  was  a  slight  sizzling  sound,  a  smell 
of  scorched  hair,  a  few  spasmodic  kicks  from  the 
helpless  victim — then  the  rope  came  away,  and  the 
brand  of  X  bar  X,  or  perhaps  a  Lone  Star,  would  be 
there  for  life. 

There  was  hard  work  in  this,  hour  after  hour,  but 
cowboys  are  a  truly  rollicking  set  and  produce  fun 
out  of  business. 

Some  comical  scenes  occurred,  that  is,  they  ap- 
peared such  to  those  who  looked  on,  but  might  have 


The  Grand  Round-Up.  99 

been  rather  uncomfortable  to  the  party  most  directly 
interested,  who,  perhaps,  was  being  chased  by  a  vic- 
ious old  steer  after  the  manner  of  Spanish  bull 
fights,  or,  having  caught  a  Tartar  with  his  rope,  was 
at  a  loss  how  to  break  loose. 

Cuthbert  tried  his  hand  at  every  part  of  the  busi- 
ness. 

He  wanted  to  learn  all  about  it,  and  Karl  was 
delighted. 

"Shouldn't  ha*  believed  it,  now.  Not  really !"  he 
exclaimed.  "For  a  tenderfoot  chum  you're  coming 
up  all  right." 

Cuthbert  laughed. 

"I'm  improving,  Karl,"  he  said. 

"Improving!  Why,  you  don't  have  any  more 
room  for  improvement.  From  to-day  you're  a  cow- 
boy, and  there  ain't  anybody  here  as  can  say  'no'  to 
that." 

It  was  a  proud  day  for  the  Virginia  lad.  Perhaps 
he  felt  more  elated  because  Polly  had  been  a  witness 
of  his  triumph — that  fact  might  have  encouraged 
him  to  strive  with  unusual  zeal  to  reach  the  high 
mark  that  had  been  placed  before  him,  for  they  were 
great  friends,  and  Polly's  commendation  was  some- 
thing to  be  prized. 

Of  course,  Karl  was  in  the  first  class,  Karl  who 
had  grown  up  to  this  sort  of  thing,  and  could  not 
remember  the  time  when  he  was  not  able  to  keep 
his  seat  on  a  horse,  and  throw  a  small  lasso  with 
good  results. 

By  degrees  the  various  herds  were  gradually 
thinned  out,  and  when  night  came  after  the  grand 
stock-taking  the  sadly-demoralized  cattle  could  be 
started  back  to  the  various  ranges. 

It  was  full  moon  and  a  glorious  night  when  Karl, 
Cuthbert,  Old  Sile  and  the  two  other  herders,  hav- 
ing seen  their  prize  bunch  safely  back  to  their  old 
anchorage,  the  terrors  of  the  past  day  already  for- 


ioo  The  Grand  Round-Up. 

gotten  in  nature's  demand  for  food,  once  more 
turned  the  heads  of  their  weary  ponies  toward  the 
ranch. 

Though  all  of  them  were  dead  tired,  such  fellows 
can  stand  an  incredible  amount  of  work  and  live,  so 
that  they  laughed  and  joked  in  the  merry  manner 
peculiar  to  their  class,  as  the  homeward  trail  was 
taken  up. 

Old  Sile  had  a  fund  of  reminiscences  at  his  fingers' 
ends,  and  could  relate  yarns  without  number  of  the 
days  when  he  had  trapped  alongside  the  great  Kit 
Carson,  or  hunted  Indians  with  Custer  and  Buffalo 
Bill. 

Such  tales  always  sound  better  when  related  by 
the  one  who  actually  experienced  the  adventure  re- 
corded, and  in  the  eyes  of  Cuthbert,  as  well  as  Karl, 
the  ancient  cowboy  was  a  veritable  hero — others  less 
credulous  thought  he  was  only  a  border  Munchau- 
sen,  and  liked  his  yarns  for  their  thrilling  origi- 
nality. 

But  whether  he  stretched  these  adventures  simply 
to  interest  the  boys  or  told  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  the  old  boy  had 
really  been  concerned  in  more  perilous  scrapes  than 
any  man  within  three  States;  and,  through  all,  his 
nerve  still  remained  as  steady  and  his  odd  chuckle  as 
predominant  as  in  early  days. 

He  was  a  type  fast  disappearing  from  the  Wild 
West,  a  remnant  of  the  good  old  Kit  Carson  days, 
when  forty-niners  crossed  the  Great  Divide,  braving 
the  perils  by  the  way,  and  yet  able,  old  chap  that  he 
was,  to  hold  his  own  with  any  of  the  young  blood 
on  the  cattle  ranges. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HORSE  THIEVES. 

After  the  round-up  Karl  and  Cuthbert  went  back 
to  night-wrangling  for  a  time,  as  the  cattle  needed 
little  attention. 

The  weather  was  fine,  and  it  seemed  no  discom- 
fort to  pass  the  hours  under  the  starry  heavens,  oc- 
casionally taking  a  scout  around  the  horses  to  see 
that  none  strayed  away,  and  to  discover  any  hungry 
wolf  hovering  nigh. 

Much  of  the  time  was  spent  reclining  upon  the 
soft  earth,  conversing  or  napping,  one  always  re- 
maining on  guard. 

There  was  always  more  or  less  danger  from  horse 
thieves,  white  or  red — desperate,  bad  men  roamed 
the  border  in  those  days,  to  whom  the  sight  of  sad- 
dle horses  was  always  a  spur  that  tempted  them  to 
kidnap  the  whole  outfit,  and  those  who  guarded  the 
animals  knew  full  well  what  stern  measures  were 
called  for  should  such  an  emergency  arise — for, 
while  a  man  who  shot  another  down  in  cold  blood 
might  be  pardoned  according  to  border  ethics,  hav- 
ing always  the  excuse  of  justifiable  self-defense,  one 
who  ran  away  with  horses  deserved  the  worst  fate 
possible,  and  if  caught  his  crime  was  never  con- 
doned. 

Hence  it  was  always  necessary  to  keep  horses, 
grazing  at  night  after  a  few  days'  work,  under  the 
watchful  eye  of  a  guard  who  had  orders  to  spare  not 
in  case  strangers  attempted  to  stampede  the  stock. 

Here  it  was  that  Cuthbert  finally  told  Karl  the 
story  of  his  life,  with  pitying  stars  above,  the  gen- 
tle night  wind  rustling  the  grasses  and  drawing 
sweet  perfume  from  myriads  of  flowers. 


102  Horse  Thieves. 

"Well,  to  begin  with,  I'm  rich — rich  enough  to — 
well,  I  needn't  tell  you  just  how  rich.  My  people 
sent  me  to  college  and  I  always  had  the  best  of 
everything,  though  my  life  has  been  shadowed  with 
a  sorrow  which  I  suppose  must  have  left  its  impres- 
sion. 

"My  mother,  whom  I  loved  fondly,  died  a  little 
more  than  a  year  ago,  leaving  all  the  property  to 
me. 

"Just  before  she  died  she  confided  to  me  the  fam- 
ily skeleton,  and  bound  me  with  a  mission  to  which 
I  solemnly  promised  to  devote  much  of  my  time. 

"It  was  an  old  story — there  had  been  a  younger 
sister,  whose  marriage  brought  estrangement  with 
the  family — a  tragedy  had  followed  and  then  years 
later  it  was  learned  that  a  motherless  child  had  been 
left  in  the  father's  care. 

"Every  possible  effort  was  made  to  discover  this 
lost  one,  but  each  trail  seemed  to  end  in  dismal  fail- 
ure. 

"Instead  of  discouraging  mother  this  only  served 
to  arouse  her  ambition,  so  that  the  one  hope  of  her 
life  was  to  find  this  girl,  if  living,  and  share  with  her 
the  wealth  that  had  come  down  from  my  rich,  but 
tyrannical,  old  Grandfather  Lee. 

"Thus,  dying,  she  bequeathed  her  mission  to  me, 
and  I  pledged  myself  to  keep  up  the  search  wherever 
I  went. 

"Well,  after  leaving  college,  I  devoted  nearly  a 
year  to  the  task,  pursuing  all  manner  of  clews,  to 
only  meet  with  continued  disappointment. 

"The  last  glimmer  of  hope  had  brought  me  out 
West  in  search  of  a  man  named  Jasper  Hosmer,  to 
whom  it  was  said  the  child's  father  had  left  his  girl 
when  dying  of  yellow  fever  in  New  Orleans. 

"As  I  had  always  longed  to  experience  the  de- 
lights of  cowboy  life,  I  took  advantage  of  the  op- 
portunity you  afforded  me  to  kill  two  birds  with 


Horse  Thieves.  103 

one  stone,  and,  as  all  trace  of  Hosmer  was  lost  in 
an  ill-fated  wagon  train  that  got  into  trouble  with 
hostile  Indians,  I  allowed  my  love  for  you  and  for 
the  wild  life  of  a  range  rider  to  keep  me  a  year  at 
dear  old  Sunset  Ranch. 

"Now  conscience  begins  to  reproach  me  when- 
ever I  think  of  mother  and  the  solemn  promise  I 
gave  her. 

"It  is  time  I  broke  away  from  the  happy  life  that 
just  suits  my  temperament,  and  return  once  more  to 
the  wild-goose  chase  of  this  ignis  fatuus  girl." 

Cuthbert  ended  with  a  sigh,  as  though  his  heart 
were  exceedingly  heavy. 

And  Karl  was  also  depressed. 

Somehow  he  had  never  contemplated  such  a  thing 
as  a  separation  from  this  dear  old  chum  who  had  en- 
tered into  his  life  so  fully. 

"You  see,"  said  Karl,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "I 
ain't  got  no  close  relations  or  things  of  that  sort. 
The  old  man — I  mean  father — he  got  down  under 
in  a  wild  stampede  of  skeered  cattle  in  a  'lectric 
storm.  I  must  'a  bin  a  pretty  husky  kid  'bout  then. 
Anyway  I  guess  I  was  old  enough  to  look  after  my- 
self. Mister  Kelly  says  the  cowboys  adopted  me. 
'Spose  that's  'bout  the  size  of  it.  They  taught  me 
how  to  sit  a  broncho  and  cock  a  gun.  But,  Cuth- 
bert you're  most  the  only  chum  I've  ever  had  and  if 
you  go  away " 

He  broke  off.     The  thought  was  too  bitter. 

"Don't  take  on  so,  Karl.  I'm  rich  enough  to  buy 
out  old  Mr.  Kelly  ten  times  over,  and  there's  no 
earthly  reason  why  you  shouldn't  come  East  and  en- 
ter an  academy.  Why  not?  Any  time  you  choose 
to  do  that  I'm  ready  to  meet  all  the  expense,  and 
would,  moreover,  consider  it  a  great  joy  and  privi- 
lege." 

Karl  was  so  overwhelmed  that  he  couldn't  utter  a 
word  of  gratitude,  though  his  heart  was  full. 


IO4  Horse  Thieves. 

They  spoke  of  the  future,  and  Cuthbert  even  laid 
plans  of  how  they  would  tour  Europe  on  horseback 
some  summer  when  Karl  was  on  his  vacation  from 
college. 

Youth  can  conjure  up  such  brilliant  and  pleasant 
fancies,  stepping  over  years  as  though  gifted  with 
the  famous  seven-league  boots. 

But  at  least  this  exchange  of  confidences  brought 
the  two  young  friends  still  closer  together,  if  such 
a  thing  were  possible. 

They  did  not  neglect  their  business,  and  the  horses 
were  carefully  guarded  each  night. 

Karl  never  breathed  a  word  of  what  was  said,  and 
it  was  a  mystery  just  how  the  news  got  abroad,  but 
about  this  time  the  word  seemed  to  pass  among  the 
boys  that  they  had  been  entertaining  an  angel  un- 
awares— that  the  erstwhile  tenderfoot,  who  had 
proudly  earned  his  right  to  the  title  of  night- 
wrangler,  herder  and  cowboy,  was  a  young  million- 
aire of  Virginia,  able  to  buy  up  a  dozen  ranches  with 
all  the  cattle  then  on  the  ranges,  if  he  chose. 

Perhaps  some  lost  letter  of  Cuthbert's,  from  his 
lawyer,  it  might  be,  gave  the  story  away. 

The  boys  had  liked  him  before  for  his  frank  and 
manly  character — they  worshiped  him  now  as  a 
young  Midas  whose  touch  could  turn  everything 
into  gold — such  is  the  astonishing  power  of  wealth, 
even  on  a  lonely  cattle  ranch. 

No  one  could  get  a  word  from  Cuthbert  on  the 
subject — he  was  annoyed  to  discover  that  it  had 
come  out,  fearing  that  the  old  familiar  freedom  of 
the  happy-go-lucky  cow  punchers  would  be  dis- 
turbed by  the  fact  that  he  was  wealthy. 

He  did  not  know  how  utterly  independent  a  cow- 
boy may  be  on  his  native  heath,  ready  to  hobnob 
with  prince  or  Russian  Grand  Duke,  as  Alexis  found 
during  his  buffalo  hunt  under  the  guidance  of  Buf- 
falo Bill. 


Horse  Thieves.  105 

Just  how  unfortunate  this  publication  of  his  finan- 
cial responsibility  might  be  Cuthbert  did  not  realize 
until  the  results  made  themselves  evident. 

It  was  a  moonlight  night,  a  delightful  evening, 
and  duty  became  a  pleasure  when  it  kept  one  in  the 
open. 

Never  hacl  the  scene  appeared  more  beautiful  to 
Cuthbert,  whose  soul  was  deeply  grieved  to  reflect 
that  he  would  soon  have  to  leave  it  for  the  busy 
haunts  of  men  and  his  old  hopeless  task,  the  search 
that  had  baffled  his  mother  and  already  exhausted 
a  year  of  his  young  life. 

A  heavy  weight  appeared  to  depress  him.  He 
thought  it  was  wholly  occasioned  by  these  sad  re- 
flections, not  dreaming  that  coming  events  might 
cast  their  shadow  before. 

Karl  endeavored,  after  his  fashion,  to  cheer  his 
friend  up,  but  the  "blues"  hung  heavy  about  Cuth- 
bert all  evening,  despite  his  earnest  effort  to  dissi- 
pate the  cloud. 

The  boys  took  turns  at  sentry  duty. 

It  was  watch  and  watch — three  hours  on  and  three 
off  with  them. 

Karl  woke  his  friend  at  midnight,  and  after  an 
exchange  of  a  few  sentences  dropped  among  the 
blankets  just  vacated,  for,  with  the  advance  of  the 
night,  a  chill  had  crept  into  the  air  which  made  a 
snug  nest  most  acceptable. 

"The  horses  are  strangely  uneasy,"  Cuthbert 
thought,  as  he  made  his  first  round. 

He  wondered  why. 

The  heavens  were  quite  destitute  of  clouds,  so  that 
it  could  not  be  a  storm  brewing — indeed,  by  this 
time  he  had  learned  to  foretell  the  coming  of  such  a 
visitor  as  well  as  the  most  accomplished  cow 
puncher,  to  whom  the  weather  means  so  much,  and 
the  clear  atmosphere  had  not  the  faintest  sign  of 
trouble  from  this  source. 


io6  Horse  Thieves. 

"Is  it  wolves?"  The  question  occurred  to  him 
without  any  of  that  old-time  tremor  that  the  very 
sound  of  the  word  produced. 

These  "pesky  varmints,"  as  Old  Sile  always  termed 
them,  had  of  late  given  more  or  less  trouble,  but 
their  audacity  had  been  severely  punished,  and,  be- 
sides, the  horses  had  never  appeared  so  uneasy  when 
these  skulkers  hung  around  the  feeding  ground — 
such  prairie  steeds  early  learn  how  to  plant  a  pair 
of  good  hoofs  just  where  they  will  do  the  most  good, 
and  woe  to  the  carrion-feeder  that  incautiously 
comes  within  reach. 

What  then? 

"I  guess  it  must  be  horse  thieves  hanging  about," 
said  Cuthbert,  hesitatingly. 

Cowboy  ponies  seem  to  become  imbued  with  some 
of  the  instincts  that  animate  their  masters,  and 
among  other  traits  hatred  for  the  red  men  easily 
takes  possession  of  their  faculties. 

"It — might — be — Indians,"  he  muttered,  slowly. 

This  time  a  quiver  ran  through  Cuthbert's  frame. 
Perhaps  it  was  in  part  alarm,  for  the  boy  had  only 
once  been  under  fire,  at  the  time  the  cattle  thieves 
were  stopped  in  their  game ;  but  he  came  of  sterling 
stock,  and,  setting  his  teeth,  resolved  to  keep  con- 
stantly on  the  watch,  ready  to  take  a  hand  in  the 
game  should  the  thieving  sons  of  the  prairie  attempt 
to  run  the  horses  off. 

With  possible  danger  hovering  near,  the  noises 
of  the  night  which  had  erstwhile  sounded  so  sooth- 
ing appeared  to  assume  an  entirely  different  aspect. 

Even  the  crooning  night  wind,  murmuring  through 
the  grasses  on  the  little  rise  beyond,  was  suggestive 
of  muttered  voices,  while  the  hoot  of  an  owl  in  the 
gopher  village  to  the  west  had  all  the  necessary 
qualifications  of  just  such  a  signal  as  Indians  are 
wont  to  exchange. 


Horse  Thieves.  107 

At  least,  Cuthbert  was  wide  awake  now — the 
drowsiness  had  departed  from  his  eyes. 

He  made  a  second  round. 

The  moon  shone  brightly,  and  the  horses  ap- 
peared to  be  clustered  together  more  closely  than 
usual.  Occasionally  one  of  them  would  sniff  the 
air,  perhaps  strike  the  ground  with  his  fore  foot, 
and  then  whinny  in  a  peculiar  way,  throwing  up  his 
head  and  mane,  and  pushing  into  the  center  of  the 
feeding  bunch. 

Cuthbert  figured  out  that  the  danger,  if  there  was 
any,  must  be  to  windward,  else  the  ponies  would 
not  have  scented  it. 

As  usual,  they  had  made  their  temporary  camp  to 
leeward  of  the  feeding  ground,  and  Karl  lay  there 
now  asleep. 

It  was  his  duty,  then,  to  patrol  the  side  where  pos- 
sible danger  might  lurk. 

He  knew  Indian  character  well  enough  to  make 
sure  that  if  red  horse  thieves  were  in  the  neighbor- 
hood they  would  approach  with  all  caution. 

"Perhaps  I  had  better  stir  Karl  up,"  he  muttered 
"Two  would  be  more  able  to  handle  the  difficulty 
than  one." 

Then  other  thoughts  came — possibly  pride  had 
something  to  do  with  the  matter,  for  Cuthbert  was 
a  Virginian,  with  all  the  confidence  that  marks  those 
who  claim  that  State  for  a  mother,  and  he  disliked 
exceedingly  the  idea  of  confessing  that,  after  all,  in 
an  emergency  he  was  not  able  to  hold  his  own. 

It  would  have  been  only  prudent  had  he  decided 
to  call  Karl. 

Cuthbert  found  reason  to  regret  his  course  when 
it  was  too  late  to  remedy  the  matter. 

The  little  rise  was  just  to  the  windward  of  his  sta- 
tion— perhaps  from  that  point  he  could  see  better 
what  lay  beyond,  for  the  grass  was  as  yet  not  long 
enough  to  conceal  men  and  horses. 


io8  Horse  Thieves. 

Of  course  an  old  campaigner  like  the  ancient 
ranger  and  cow  puncher,  Old  Sile,  would  have  pur- 
sued an  entirely  different  system  of  tactics — his 
course  would  have  been  governed  by  caution,  while 
Cuthbert  felt  only  the  impulse  to  see,  forgetting  that 
in  taking  this  step  he  was  placing  himself  in  a  posi- 
tion to  be  easily  discovered  by  the  Argus  eyes  of 
those  prowlers  of  the  night. 

Which  goes  to  prove  that  there  are  many  things 
in  the  lexicon  of  border  lore  which  may  not  be  mas- 
tered, even  after  a  year's  experience  and  study  at 
close  range. 

So  Cuthbert  made  for  the  rise,  stooping  low  amid 
the  grass,  and  stopping  every  now  and  then  for  an 
observation. 

Naturally,  he  believed  he  was  carrying  out  his 
part  of  the  business  after  the  manner  of  an  old,  ex- 
perienced hand,  though  doubtless  Karl  might  have 
been  able  to  give  him  points  that  would  have  proven 
valuable. 

If  there  were  any  enemies  near  by  they  must  have 
lain  pretty  close  in  the  grass,  for,  while  Cuthbert 
claimed  to  possess  keen  eyes,  he  failed  to  detect 
them. 

Thus  he  gained  the  low  swell  from  whence  an  ob- 
servation might  be  taken  as  far  as  the  power  of  the 
moonlight  permitted. 

"Everything  seems  peaceful  enough  around  here," 
he  said  to  himself. 

Looking  to  the  east  he  could  see  the  dark  mass 
of  ponies,  and  fancied  he  was  able  to  make  out  the 
spot  where  Karl  lay  sleeping — dear  old  Karl,  who 
had  filled  an  aching  void  in  his  heart  and  life  that 
should  never  be  vacant  again. 

Far  beyond  Cuthbert  looked,  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hand,  but  nothing  suspicious  appeared  to 
come  under  his  observation. 

Then,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  swept  the  western 


Horse  Thieves.  109 

plain  with  his  eager  gaze,  passing  over  rod  after 
rod  of  territory. 

"My  gracious!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  could  have 
sworn  I  saw  something  suggestive  move  out  there. 
That's  the  second  time,  too." 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  few  minutes ;  then  he  went 
on: 

"It  must  be  a  big  clump  of  buffalo  grass,  and  the 
mystic  moonlight  is  playing  with  my  fancy." 

Once  more  he  stared,  then  he  gave  vent  to  a  pro- 
longed "Ah!" 

He  dropped  to  his  knees  and  clutched  his  Win- 
chester, eagerly. 

"No  mistake  this  time,"  he  muttered ;  "I'm  in  for 
it." 

Far  away  he  saw  dark  objects  that  moved,  and 
upon  these  he  rested  his  attention. 

He  knew  Karl  could  immediately  have  decided 
their  nature,  and  hence  it  was  incumbent  upon  him 
to  figure  out  whether  they  were  feeding  antelope  or 
Indian  ponies. 

That  was  where  knowledge  of  prairie  lore  came 
into  play. 

Presently  he  became  convinced  that  the  animals 
were  not  moving  freely — deer,  when  feeding  raise 
their  heads  at  certain  intervals  to  look  around,  con- 
scious of  the  fact  that  danger  ever  lurks  near  for 
such  innocent  quarry,  but  these  animals  never  once 
did  this. 

Moreover,  the  boy  decided  that  they  walked  about 
the  limits  of  their  circumscribed  feeding  ground  with 
a  sort  of  limping  gait. 

He  knew  what  that  implied. 

They  were  ponies  that  had  been  hobbled  after  the 
usual  manner  of  the  Sioux. 

Where  were  their  crafty  owners? 

Cuthbert  confessed  to  a  cold  chill  as  he  turned  his 


no  Horse  Thieves. 

head  again  and  surveyed  the  peaceful  scene  on  the 
other  side  of  the  miniature  divide. 

How  long  would  this  quiet  of  the  night,  this 
peacefulness  remain  unbroken — at  any  minute,  the 
hideous  yells  of  the  savage  horse  raiders  might  break 
forth  upon  the  air,  stampeding  the  already  alarmed 
horses  and  playing  all  manner  of  mischief  with  their 
charges. 

Nothing  now  must  stand  in  the  way  of  his  arous- 
ing Karl,  and  seeking  his  advice — even  the  thought 
of  his  cheery  presence  gave  the  other  new  confi- 
dence in  the  outcome. 

Together,  side  by  side,  and  mounted  on  their  good 
steeds,  they  might  be  able  to  circumvent  the  auda- 
cious rascals  who  sought  to  secure  what  was  so  valu- 
able in  the  eyes  of  an  Indian — ponies. 

One  last  look  toward  the  distant  objects  that  had 
so  excited  his  alarm,  as  if  to  assure  himself  against 
any  possible  mistake,  and  he  would  be  off  for  the 
camp. 

Again  he  strained  his  vision  to  make  positive,  all 
unconscious  of  the  fact  that  even  while  on  his  knees 
upon  this  swell  he  rendered  his  figure  a  conspicuous 
object  to  several  pairs  of  keen  eyes  close  by. 

A  form,  dark  and  lithe,  with  movements  as 
sinewy  as  those  of  a  panther,  arose  silently  out  of 
the  grass  to  one  side  of  Cuthbert  and  only  a  short 
rope's  throw  away. 

At  the  same  time  other  heads  appeared  in  various 
quarters,  showing  that  the  knoll  had  been  peopled 
at  the  time  of  his  advent  on  the  scene,  so  that  it 
was  a  mere  matter  of  luck  that  Cuthbert  had  failed 
to  stumble  upon  one  of  the  flattened-out  figures. 

That  might  have  hastened  events  somewhat,  but 
could  hardly  have  made  any  appreciable  difference 
in  the  ultimate  outcome. 

The  first  Indian  stood  erect — he  seemed  to  whirl 


"  The  noose  settled  over  the  boy's  shoulders."    See  page  in. 


Horse  Thieves.  in 

something  around  his  head,  slowly  at  first,  but  with 
increasing  momentum. 

It  was  a  rope,  a  lariat,  and  this  time  intended  for 
higher  quarry  than  pony  or  steer. 

Having  acquired  the  proper  velocity,  the  coils 
were  launched  forth  upon  their  mission.  The  cast- 
ing of  a  rope  is  a  pretty  thing  when  done  by  the  deft 
hand  of  an  accomplished  lariat  thrower,  but  there 
may  necessarily  be  times  when  one  loses  interest  in 
the  performance. 

A  cowboy  recognizes  the  peculiar  hissing  sound 
made  by  the  swift  passage  of  the  noose,  and  its  at- 
tendant coils  through  space — it  is  a  "swish"  that, 
once  heard,  can  never  be  forgotten.  And  the  first 
intuitive  action  of  a  herder  upon  catching  this  sound 
is  to  duck  his  head,  to  throw  himself  prone  upon 
the  ground,  or  perhaps  elevate  both  hands  after  the 
manner  of  a  stagecoach  "hold-up,"  so  that  the  en- 
circling noose  at  least  may  not  render  him  abso- 
lutely helpless  by  fastening  his  arms  rigidly  at  his 
side,  as  though  he  were  a  mummy. 

With  Cuthbert  it  was  a  case  of  dropping  squat 
upon  the  ground — instinct  and  not  reason  governs 
the  action  in  such  a  case. 

He  was  just  a  little  too  late,  or  else  the  rope  came 
with  unusual  swiftness,  having  been  cast  by  a  mas- 
ter hand. 

However  that  might  be  the  noose  settled  over  the 
boy's  shoulders — he  remembered  feeling  a  quick 
jerk  that  announced  its  being  made  taut,  and  of  try- 
ing to  run  toward  the  spot  from  whence  it  came,  his 
only  chance  being  to  loosen  the  noose. 

Karl  was  on  his  mind  when  he  uttered  a  shrill  cry 
of  alarm  that  must  have  carried  far  over  the  prairie 
and  aroused  his  friend,  always  a  light  sleeper. 

Although  his  action  was  well  taken,  it  failed  of  a 
result,  for  a  second  loop  fell  over  his  head  and  from 
quite  a  different  quarter. 


H2  Horse  Thieves. 

These  Indians  appeared  to  be  able  to  use  the  rope 
quite  as  well  as  the  best  of  white  cowboys. 

Cuthbert  was  no  longer  able  to  run  in  the  direc- 
tion he  desired  to  go — indeed,  held  from  both  sides, 
even  as  he  had  many  times  helped  to  hold  a  refrac- 
tory steer,  he  found  it  utterly  out  of  the  question  to 
move — breathing  was  difficult,  since  that  second 
rope  partially  encircled  his  neck. 

And  as  he  struggled  against  his  fate  the  Virginia 
boy  heard  the  thunder  of  many  hoofs,  as  the  Indians 
who  had  been  hidden  with  their  ponies  in  the  longer 
grass  below  the  ridge  went  galloping  wildly  toward 
the  saddle  band — heard  the  chorus  of  savage  yells 
that  would  serve  to  terrify  and  stampede  the  animals 
over  which  he  and  Karl  had  been  placed  in  charge, 
and  mingled  with  these  the  clamorous  report  of  fire- 
arms added  to  the  racket. 

His  heart  sank  within  him  until  it  felt  like  a  lump 
of  lead. 

Strange  to  say,  it  was  not  of  himself  or  his  des- 
perate position  he  thought — Karl  alone  was  in  his 
mind,  Karl  who  would  endeavor  to  defend  his  bunch 
of  horses,  although  the  shrieking  stampeders  were 
twenty  to  one. 

Karl,  who  would  perhaps  go  down  riddled  with 
bullets,  a  fate  that  has  ere  now  befallen  many  a  night 
wrangler  when  horse  thieves  were  on  the  range. 

It  all  happened  so  quickly  that  Cuthbert  must  al- 
ways have  some  difficulty  in  remembering  just  what 
occurred. 

He  heard  the  tumult  sweep  over  the  ridge,  heard 
the  roar  of  many  hoofs  that  announced  the  accom- 
plishment of  the  stampede,  caught  the  steady  report 
of  Karl's  gun  as  the  prairie  boy  sturdily  opened  fire 
upon  the  marauders,  intent  upon  punishing,  if  he 
could  not  save. 

Then  those  who  held  the  ropes,  as  if  by  a  precon- 
certed movement,  jerked  him  over  and  dragged  him 


Horse  Thieves.  113 

along  the  ground  at  the  heels  of  an  Indian  pony. 
Somewhat  battered  and  on  the  verge  of  fainting 
from  the  shock,  Cuthbert  felt  himself  snatched  up  by 
a  strong  arm  and  placed  before  a  rider — then  the 
exultant  yells  of  the  successful  marauders  died  away, 
even  the  steady  thumping  of  horses'  hoofs  close  to 
him  became  like  the  murmur  of  a  fretful  stream,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Cuthbert  Lee  swooned 
fully  away. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE     SIOUX     VILLAGE. 

For  the  life  of  him,  when  his  senses  returned, 
Cuthbert  could  not  tell  where  he  was. 

He  lay  upon  the  ground  near  a  small  fire,  be- 
tween which  and  himself  dark,  shadowy  figures 
moved. 

Perhaps  he  had  been  sick  and  was  just  now  re- 
covering in  the  camp — but  he  could  not  remember, 
rack  his  brains  as  he  might,  any  of  the  circum- 
stances attending  the  case  where  he  was  when  the 
event  happened,  and  under  what  conditions. 

Were  these  cowboys  moving  around  him? 

He  could  detect  the  presence  of  many  horses  near 
by,  for  a  range  rider's  ear  becomes  very  acute,  espe- 
cially to  all  the  movements  of  stock. 

Cuthbert  endeavored  to  raise  himself  to  a  sitting 
position,  the  better  to  satisfy  his  mind,  but  to  his  in- 
tense amazement  he  was  unable  to  accomplish  such 
a  thing. 

Then  the  truth  burst  upon  his  mind — he  was 
bound — a  prisoner. 

At  about  the  same  time  he  made  another  discov- 
ery, equally  startling. 

This  concerned  the  identity  of  those  who  hovered 
about  the  little  fire  at  which  they  appeared  to  be 
cooking  some  meat, 

They  were  Indians. 

So  the  whole  truth  broke  in  upon  his  mind  and  he 
remembered  all — the  uneasiness  of  the  saddle  band, 
his  prowling  to  windward  to  ascertain  the  cause,  the 
vigil  upon  the  knoll,  his  discovery  of  the  hobbled 
Indian  ponies,  the  casting  of  a  lariat,  his  downfall, 


The  Sioux  Village.  115 

the  rush  of  the  red  raiders,  their  awful  clamor  to 
stampede  the  horses,  then  his  being  dragged  over 
the  prairie,  jerked  up  on  a  pony,  and  after  that  un- 
consciousness. 

Now  was  the  opportunity  to  try  the  mettle  of  the 
lad — would  he  weakly  give  in  to  despair  on  account 
of  the  conditions  surrounding  him,  or  rise  above 
these  distracting  circumstances,  facing  the  situation 
bravely  as  became  a  son  of  the  illustrious  family? 
At  least,  he  was  alive  and  his  hurts  trifling.  Evi- 
dently the  horse  thieves  did  not  mean  to  take  his 
life,  or  they  would  not  have  gone  to  all  this  trouble. 

It  puzzled  him  quite  a  little  to  understand  why 
they  had  carried  him  off  at  all,  since  their  object 
must  surely  have  been  to  seize  the  stock,  and  this 
had  evidently  been  accomplished. 

Had  it  been  Karl,  now,  he  might  have  figured  out 
a  case,  for  an  old  Sioux  chief  had  long  since  taken  a 
strange  and  violent  fancy  for  the  prairie  lad,  believ- 
ing he  resembled  a  boy  of  his  own  who  had  been 
carried  off  with  that  dread  scourge,  smallpox. 

Several  times  had  old  Standing  Elk  endeavored  to 
win  Karl's  consent  to  abide  with  him,  become  an 
Indian  and  succeed  him  later  on  as  ruler  of  the 
nomads.  The  inducement  was  not  half  strong 
enough  to  work  upon  the  lad,  and  he  had  flatly  re- 
fused. 

Now,  such  was  the  apparent  infatuation  of  the  old 
chief  for  Karl  that  Cuthbert  would  not  have  been 
very  much  surprised  had  an  attempt  been  made  to 
carry  him  off;  but  he  knew  no  reason  why  they 
should  want  a  tenderfoot. 

At  any  rate,  he  determined  that  come  what  would 
he  must  never  show  the  white  feather — he  had 
yearned  for  adventure,  and  here  it  had  descended 
upon  him  with  a  vengeance,  so  that  his  soul  could 
revel  in  it  to  the  queen's  taste. 


n6  The  Sioux  Village. 

Accordingly  he  deliberately  called  out  to  the 
figures  squatting  about  the  fire: 

"Hello,  there !" 

One  of  the  Indians  at  once  shuffled  toward  him, 
his  figure  outlined  against  the  starry  heavens.  Cuth- 
bert  looked  keenly  at  the  fellow,  but  it  would  have 
been  an  impossible  task  to  have  recognized  even  a 
friend  in  such  dim  light,  and  rigged  out  in  the  tog- 
gery a  Sioux  brave  delights  to  don  when  on  the  war- 
path or  a  horse-thieving  expedition. 

"How!"  grunted  the  dusky  child  of  the  wilder- 
ness. 

"See  here,  can't  you  let  me  up.  I'm  tired  of  lying 
here,  and  besides,  hungry,  too." 

Cuthbert  spoke  boldly  enough,  having  resolved  to 
let  these  fellows  who  had  stampeded  and  run  away 
with  a  portion  of  the  saddle  horses  belonging  to 
Sunset  Ranch  see  that  he  did  not  fear  them — know- 
ing full  well  that  this  was  the  best  way  to  win  their 
respect. 

"Urn,"  grunted  the  Indian,  "me  see." 

He  returned  to  the  fire  and  held  a  brief  consulta- 
tion with  some  one,  coming  back  presently  with  a 
clean  proposition. 

"White  boy  give  um  promise  not  to  run  away,  me 
untie  hands  and  feet." 

"You  bet  I  will,  and  be  quick  about  it,"  said  Cuth- 
bert, who  ached  to  stretch  himself. 

Apparently  the  Indians  were  not  quite  ready  to 
fully  confide  in  the  honor  of  a  paleface.  They  may 
have  had  cause  to  regret  such  faith  in  the  past,  for, 
while  Cuthbert's  bonds  fell  away,  his  waist  was  en- 
circled with  the  noose  of  a  tough  rope,  to  the  other 
end  of  which,  only  a  few  yards  away,  the  dusky 
guard  hung  out.  At  least  this  was  a  hundred  per 
cent,  better  than  lying  there  like  an  old  log. 

He  stretched  himself  thoroughly  and  then  walked 
directly  up  to  the  fire. 


The  Sioux  Village.  117 

It  was  not  a  great  way  from  early  dawn,  and  in 
all  probability  his  captors  would  not  halt  again  for 
hours,  so  that  he  might  just  as  well  get  a  little  re- 
freshment with  the  rest. 

Acting  upon  the  lines  he  had  so  hurriedly  laid 
out  for  his  guidance,  and  under  the  knowledge  that 
Indians  always  admire  boldness  in  a  kid,  Cuthbert 
demanded  some  meat. 

This  was  readily  given,  and  he  set  to  work  chew- 
ing at  the  tough  morsel,  while  a  dozen  eyes  watched 
his  movements. 

Already  he  had  made  a  discovery  that  gave  him  a 
point  or  two. 

The  old  chief,  Standing  Elk,  was  in  charge  of  the 
bunch  of  horse  raiders. 

As  a  usual  thing  these  raids  were  wholly  con- 
ducted by  the  hot-headed  younger  element  of  the 
tribe,  the  more  conservative  disclaiming  any  con- 
nection with  the  affair  should  trouble  ensue,  though 
always  ready  and  willing  to  take  their  share  of  the 
spoils  after  a  successful  fray. 

Cuthbert  felt  sure  that  some  motive  beyond  the 
base  desire  to  steal  horses  had  animated  the  famous 
old  chief,  and  brought  him  down  from  his  northern 
stronghold. 

He  figured  out  that  it  had  been  the  intention  of 
Standing  Elk  to  kidnap  Karl  and  force  him  to  live 
among  the  Sioux  lodges,  filling  the  place  in  his  heart 
made  vacant  by  the  death  of  his  adored  son.  If  so, 
a  great  blunder  had  occurred,  and  they  had  carried 
off  the  wrong  party. 

Still,  Standing  Elk  did  not  appear  discouraged, 
and  Cuthbert  actually  believed  the  old  rascal  was 
watching  him  do  battle  with  the  tough  venison  with 
a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  his  crafty  eyes. 

"Can  it  be  that  Standing  Elk  has  changed  his 
mind  and  decided  that  I  will  answer  his  purpose  just 
as  well?"  he  wondered. 


n8  The  Sioux  Village. 

Cuthbert  winced  at  the  prospect  before  him,  but 
realized  that  if  the  intentions  of  the  chief  were  car- 
ried out  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to  learn  more  about 
Indian  life  than  had  ever  entered  into  his  philosophy, 
even  in  his  wildest  dreams. 

That  the  halt  was  merely  a  temporary  one,  to  rest 
the  animals  and  get  a  bite  of  refreshment  them- 
selves, was  now  made  manifest;  for  at  a  gruff  sig- 
nal from  the  leader  the  young  bucks  kicked  out  the 
sunken  fire  at  which  their  primitive  cooking  had 
been  done  and  scattered  to  attend  to  the  stock. 

All  became  temporary  confusion — hobbled  ponies 
were  brought  up,  men  sprang  upon  their  backs  and 
some  led  a  captured  animal. 

Cuthbert  had  already  eagerly  looked  around,  in 
the  hope  of  discovering  his  own  good  steed  among 
these  latter,  scrutinizing  each  in  turn,  but  in  this  dis- 
appointment met  him. 

He  did  find  Buckskin,  however,  though  it  was  a 
mystery  how  the  marauders  had  ever  captured  the 
yellow  broncho,  since  his  hatred  for  anything  In- 
dian was  so  great  that  he  would  lay  back  his  ears 
and  look  uglyjf  even  approached  by  a  copper-col- 
ored gentleman. 

Yet  there  he  was,  and  apparently  as  'docile  as  any 
tired  cayuse  in  the  lot. 

"Ah,  there,  Buckskin !"  he  cried,  as  he  walked  up 
to  pat  the  animal. 

Buckskin  gave  a  whinny  of  recognition,  for  he  had 
come  to  love  Cuthbert  only  second  to  Karl. 

"Poor  old  chap!"  said  Cuthbert,  sadly,  as  he 
stroked  the  velvety  muzzle.  "You  can't  think  what 
we've  gotten  into.  Don't  you  know  your  master 
may  be  out  there  scooting  to  the  dear  old  ranch  with 
a  pack  of  these  fellows  whooping  in  his  ear — or  he 
may  be  lying  dead  on  the  prairie?" 

The  last  thought  was  too  much  for  him  and  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  while  the  prairie,  steed, looked 


The  Sioux  Village.  119 

darkly  at  him  and  probably  tried  his  best  to  com- 
prehend it  all. 

Be  it  said  to  the  Virginia  boy's  credit  that  his 
own  desperate  situation  did  not  give  him  half  the 
anxiety  he  experienced  for  Karl. 

The  Indians  were  not  averse  to  him  riding  the  vic- 
ious Buckskin  nag — perhaps  some  of  them  had  en- 
deavored to  do  so  with  only  a  rope  hackamore  to 
control  the  little  demon,  and  speedily  found  cause  to 
regret  their  daring. 

The  rope  was  transferred  to  the  neck  of  the 
broncho,  and  during  the  ride  some  of  the  young 
bucks  managed  to  keep  alongside  their  prisoner. 

However  anxious  Cuthbert  may  have  been  he  dis- 
guised his  feelings  admirably,  and  endeavored  to  en- 
ter into  conversation  with  one  and  then  another  of 
the  Sioux. 

Weary  as  they  were,  the  braves  did  not  seem  in  a 
humor  to  talk,  and  beyond  an  occasional  "how"  or 
a  guttural  grunt,  he  extracted  little  information 
from  them. 

The  dawn  came. 

Cuthbert  found,  as  he  suspecte3,  that  their  course 
was  generally  due  north  as  the  crow  flies. 

He  knew  then  they  were  aiming  for  the  far-dis- 
tant Sioux  village  by  the  Sweetwater. 

Many  mysteries  would  have  to  be  explained  be- 
fore he  could  understand  why  these  red  men  wanted 
to  run  off  with  a  white  cowboy  at  the  time  they 
raided  his  stock — a  dangerous  proceeding,  since  he 
would  be  in  a  position  to  identify  the  horse  thieves 
should  a  force  of  cavalry  be  sent  in  pursuit,  as  some- 
times happened. 

With  the  rising  of  the  sun  the  ghostly  fears  and 
phantoms  of  the  night  fledj  and  he  was  able  to  get 
what  enjoyment  was  possible  out  of  the  situation. 

Among  the  braves  around  him  he  saw  one  who 
appeared  better  natured  than  the  rest,  and  at  once 


120  The  Sioux  Village. 

decided  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  cultivate  his  friend- 
ship, with  the  idea  of  learning  about  Karl.  This 
was  Red  Hat,  a  splendid  fellow,  over  six  feet  high 
and  of  magnificent  proportions. 

Cuthbert  cantered  alongside  him,  and  endeavored 
to  get  this  colossal  brave  to  converse. 

"Me  no  talk,"  said  Red  Hat,  dryly.  "Ask  me 
nothing.  Me  know  nothing.  So." 

With  which  he  went  on  calmly  gazing  out  across 
the  expanse  of  desert  in  front,  and  nodding  saga- 
ciously at  the  youngster  at  his  side. 

"But  you  surely  know  where  we  are  going  and 
why  I  am  being  taken." 

"Know  nothing,"  repeated  Red  Hat.  "Boy  very 
silly.  He  have  nice  time.  He  eat,  he  sleep,  he 
drink,  he  laugh.  Ha,  ha !  You  never  want  to  leave 
us.  Look,  Standing  Elk  tell  you  all.  Ask  him." 

A  chuckle  close  by  told  him  they  were  being  ob- 
served, and  turning  he  saw  the  chief's  beady  eyes 
fixed  full  upon  him,  while  an  indescribable  grin 
marked  those  angular  features. 

"Ah !"  said  Standing  Elk,  grimly.  "So  white  boy 
not  satisfied.  You  like  it  by'm-by." 

"I  shall  never  like  it,"  cried  Cuthbert,  excitedly; 
"and  as  for  you,  I  shall  never  like  you.  I  just  hate 
you." 

"Ah !  We  see  later,"  said  Standing  Elk,  with  the 
self-same  smile  playing  about  his  thin  lips.  "Feel 
so  glad  afterwards.  Plenty  eat.  Plenty  sleep. 
Hath  not  the  good  Red  Hat  spoken?" 

"Not  good  enough  for  me,"  said  Cuthbert,  smil- 
ing in  spite  of  himself.  "I  don't  want  your  food. 
I'd  rather  be  back  with  Karl  and  the  others.  And 
I  tell  you  what,  I'll  be  off  just  the  first  chance  I  get. 
You  hear  that,  Standing  Elk?" 

Cuthbert  spoke  harshly,  and  Standing  Elk  lis- 
tened, his  face  ever  wearing  that  peculiar  grin. 

The  smile  relaxed  for  a  moment,  and  a  slight 


The  Sioux  Village.  121 

frown  gathered  over  the  heavy  brows  with  Cuth- 
bert's  last  word. 

"White  boy  fool.     Try  run  away — ugh !" 

And  with  a  significant  gesture,  he  swung  his  gun 
to  the  "present"  and  peered  along  the  barrel. 

Then  the  eternal  grin  settled  again  over  the  brown 
features,  and,  chuckling  aloud,  he  sauntered  to  the 
front. 

They  were  still  on  the  prairie. 

The  same  great  sea  of  grass,  flower-studded  and 
waving  in  the  morning  breeze,  surrounded  them  on 
all  sides. 

There  could  be  no  doubt  but  that  the  marauders 
desired  to  place  many  leagues  between  them- 
selves and  the  hard  riders  of  Sunset  Ranch  ere  the 
shades  fell  again. 

Perhaps  they  did  not  exactly  fear  an  encounter 
with  Kelly's  cowboys,  but  common  prudence  and 
a  desire  to  save  the  stolen  horses  urged  them  to 
make  good  use  of  their  time. 

Cuthbert  never  had  such  a  ride. 

Accustomed  to  feeling  a  good  saddle  under  him, 
this  bareback  business  came  hard  after  several 
hours'  hard  consecutive  work,  so  that  at  noon  he 
begged  an  old  Indian  blanket  and  strapped  this  on 
Buckskin's  back,  after  which  his  discomfort  van- 
ished. 

The  pace  was  no  longer  hot,  though  it  was  simply 
wonderful  what  endurance  those  tough  little  ponies 
were  capable  of  showing.  Steadily  the  miles  slipped 
away  until  Cuthbert  could  no  longer  give  even  a 
rough  guess  as  to  the  distance  separating  him  from 
his  friends. 

Far  into  the  night,  by  the  aid  of  the  bright  moon, 
the  Indian  band  pushed  on. 

The  country  was  entirely  unfamiliar  to  the  pris- 
oner, since  in  his  longest  rides  with  Karl  when  out 
on  a  hunt  he  had  never  reached  this  section. 


122  The  Sioux  Village. 

It  grew  more  broken  now,  as  they  approached  the 
foothills. 

Seen  in  the  misty  moonlight,  it  presented  new  fea- 
tures that  might  have  aroused  his  interest,  only  that 
utter  weariness  prevented  him  from  enjoying  any- 
thing. 

Cuthbert  had  never  been  so  tired  in  his  life. 
Every  bone  in  his  body  ached — perhaps  more  as  a 
result  of  his  rough  treatment  after  being  roped  by 
the  Indians  and  dragged  over  the  prairie,  than  be- 
cause of  the  ride,  since  he  had  long  since  ceased  to 
be  dismayed  at  anything  in  the  way  of  this  latter. 

Even  the  young  bucks  at  length  began  to  show 
plain  evidences  of  distress,  and  a  halt  became  neces- 
sary. 

Pride  caused  Cuthbert  to  disguise  his  real  condi- 
tion. It  was  just  as  strong  in  the  breast  of  this  Vir- 
ginia lad  as  with  the  untutored  sons  of  the  wilder- 
ness, and  he  slipped  from  Buckskin's  back  with 
forced  agility,  assuming  a  gayety  he  was  far  from 
feeling.  Some  dropped  down  and  slept,  while 
others  cooked  more  tough  venison. 

Cuthbert  pushed  his  way  to  the  fire  and  toasted  a 
bit  of  meat  for  himself.  Then  he  threw  his  form 
upon  the  velvety  turf,  masticated  his  food,  and  rolled 
over  upon  the  Indian  blanket  he  had  taken  from  the 
back  of  his  horse.  It  was  like  all  Indian  blankets, 
anything  but  clean,  but  Cuthbert  had  gotten  over 
many  foolish  notions  that  had  accompanied  him 
West,  and  thought  only  of  the  comfort  it  gave. 

He  blinked  up  at  the  clouds  now  passing  over  the 
moon  for  a  few  minutes  or  so,  and  then  exhausted 
nature  carried  him  to  dreamland. 

The  steady  downpour  of  rain  and  the  mutter  of 
voices  aroused  him. 

At  first  he  thought  he  had  been  asleep  but  a  few 
minutes,  and  at  sight  of  the  Indians  making  prepara- 
tions to  resume  the  flight  he  was  sorely  dismayed; 


The  Sioux  Village.  123 

but  upon  noting  the  position  of  the  moon  back  of 
the  clouds  he  decided  it  must  be  not  far  from  dawn. 

That  was  the  shortest  five  hours  Cuthbert  ever  ex- 
perienced. 

Now  his  apprenticeship  as  horse  wrangler  on  a 
wet  night  came  into  good  play. 

Rain  had  little  terror  for  the  Indians,  accustomed 
to  taking  things  as  they  came,  the  evil  with  the 
good,  philosophically. 

Cuthbert  threw  the  old  blanket  over  his  shoulders, 
intending  to  ride  bareback  for  a  while,  at  least. 

It  was  a  melancholy  spectacle,  the  start  they  made 
under  the  dripping  heavens,  but  only  by  grunts  did 
these  toughened  riders  evince  any  disgust — white 
men  would  have  very  probably  given  expression  to 
their  feelings  by  profanity. 

The  morning  broke  gloomy  enough. 

Still  Cuthert  could  see  that  Standing  Elk  was  de- 
lighted over  the  rain,  and  he  figured  out  that  the 
braves  were  willing  to  take  their  ducking,  since  this 
same  downpour  would  utterly  blot  out  their  trail. 

To  the  prisoner,  however,  this  consciousness  only 
added  to  his  gloom. 

That  he  was  able  to  restrain  his  natural  feeling  of 
despair  and  imitate  his  captors  in  taciturn  indiffer- 
ence was  greatly  to  his  credit. 

The  rain  eventually  ceased,  but  their  journey 
seemed  to  have  no  end. 

The  sun  came  out  and  soon  each  man  and  horse 
was  steaming. 

Cuthbert  kept  the  course  as  well  as  the  conditions 
allowed,  for  he  fully  expected  sooner  or  later  to 
come  this  way  again,  perhaps  on  faithful  old  Buck- 
skin, and  it  would  be  of  great  advantage  to  him  to 
know  in  which  direction  the  great  cattle  range  lay. 

From  words  dropped  now  and  then  he  learned 
that  they  would  probably  make  the  village  on  the 


124  The  Sioux  Village. 

Sweetwater  late  that  night  if  the  ponies  held  out 
and  nothing  unforeseen  happened. 

He  felt  he  would  be  glad,  for  the  ride  was  cer- 
tainly getting  to  be  a  bit  troublesome — the  lack  of 
saddle  and  bridle  counted  for  much  in  a  long  jour- 
ney. 

One  thing  he  had  discovered;  his  Winchester  in 
the  possession  of  a  young  buck,  who  seemed  espe- 
cially proud  because  the  wizard  gun  had  fallen  into 
his  hands  as  a  prize. 

Cuthbert  began  to  have  new  hopes  that  he  might 
yet  be  able  to  escape,  since  horse  and  rifle  had  not 
deserted  him. 

One  or  two  more  short  halts  for  rest  or  a  break  to 
their  fast  brought  them  once  more  to  nightfall  and 
darkness,  for  the  moon  was  not  scheduled  to  rise 
until  some  time  later. 

The  short  interval  afforded  them  a  rest. 

Then  once  more  the  cavalcade  went  forward  on 
what  was  apparently  the  home  stretch. 

The  prairie  lay  behind  and  they  were  now  travel- 
ing a  hilly  country.  Trees  became  common,  and 
excited  Cuthbert's  interest,  since  he  had  been  so 
long  on  the  open  plains. 

Even  the  Indian  ponies  seemed  to  know  instinc- 
tively that  they  were  drawing  near  the  home  cor- 
ral, for  they  stretched  out  with  a  new  vigor  that 
aroused  Buckskin  to  do  his  prettiest,  nor  was  the 
old  cowboy  mount  to  be  left  lagging  by  any  cayuse 
ever  ridden  by  a  Sioux  brave. 

At  last  the  terrible  journey  came  to  an  end. 

Cuthbert  was  secretly  well  pleased,  for  to  himself 
he  owned  up  to  being  sorely  tired.  The  last  few 
miles  of  their  ride  took  them  along  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  with  the  silvery  moonlight  on  the  water, 
casting  fantastic  shadows  where  the  trees  overhung 
its  brink,  the  scene  was  very  beautiful  to  one  who 


The  Sioux  Village.  125 

loved  nature,  and  who  had  seen  so  little  of  this  sort 
of  thing  for  a  year  back. 

Then  came  the  Indian  village,  nestled  among  the 
hills. 

A  more  romantic  location  could  not  well  have 
been  chosen,  though  possibly  there  were  more  pro- 
saic motives  influencing  the  tribal  leaders  when  they 
planted  their  lodge  poles  in  this  same  spot,  for  it 
was  admirably  situated  for  defense,  and  the  country 
roundabout  fairly  abounded  in  game. 

Cuthbert,  who  had  determined  to  observe  all  the 
curious  things  possible  connected  with  these  strange 
people,  was  interested  at  once  in  the  welcome  ac- 
corded the  returning  war  and  raiding  party. 

A  Roman  triumphal  entry  might  have  exceeded 
it  in  the  splendor  of  chariots  and  appointments,  but 
it  could  not  have  done  so  in  the  matter  of  noise  and 
rank  enthusiasm. 

Every  warrior,  squaw  and  papoose  within  the 
confines  of  the  village  shouted  and  whooped  and 
shrieked  in  their  great  delight — all  this  spoil  and 
not  even  one  man  lost — it  was  the  most  remarkable 
event  of  years,  and  Standing  Elk,  yes,  every  young 
buck  in  his  company,  was  a  red  hero  of  the  hour, 
upon  whom  compliments  and  roasted  dog  must  be 
lavished  to  show  the  appreciation  in  which  their  fel- 
lows held  them. 

So  interested  was  Cuthbert  in  these  entertaining 
sights  that  he  even  forgot  his  fatigue,  and  the  de- 
pressing fact  of  his  being  a  prisoner  until  the  curi- 
ous squaws  around  pinched  him  to  see  if  he  were 
really  alive. 

Success  in  their  undertaking  and  the  fact  of  their 
once  more  being  at  home  made  the  Indians  of  the 
expedition  relax  from  their  usual  stolid  condition — 
indeed,  for  the  nonce  they  painted  the  town  red. 

Cuthbert  was  therefore  not  received  with  blows, 
and  he  had  cause  to  congratulate  himself. 


126  The  Sioux  Village. 

They  speedily  shoved  him  into  a  tepee  and  left 
him  alone. 

Perhaps  it  would  have  been  natural  for  any  one 
in  so  desperate  a  condition  to  have  lain  awake  and 
worried  over  his  grievous  state,  but  young  Lee  was 
an  exceedingly  practical  lad  and  possessed  of  good 
health  as  well  as  a  fair  share  of  animal  spirits,  so 
that  he  chose  rather  to  look  at  things  from  a  busi- 
ness standpoint.  He  was  fairly  well  treated,  and 
had  good  friends,  who  would  search  far  and  wide 
to  find  his  whereabouts.  Karl  had  not  been  injured 
during  the  raid  and  stampede,  as  he  had  since 
learned,  though  two  of  the  braves  bore  wounds  that 
attested  to  the  accuracy  of  the  night  wrangler's  aim 
at  the  time  they  rushed  the  saddle  band. 

On  the  whole,  Cuthbert  had  reason  to  be  thankful 
matters  were  no  worse. 

So  he  turned  over  in  the  easiest  position  his  cir- 
cumstances would  allow,  and  went  to  sleep  almost  as 
calmly  as  though  he  had  been  in  the  little  den  he 
occupied  in  company  with  dear  old  Karl  whenever 
their  duties  allowed  them  to  be  near  the  Kelly 
ranch.  There  is  nothing  like  having  a  phlegmatic 
disposition,  or  a  control  over  the  bodily  forces  by  a 
determined  will. 

Doubtless  the  feasting  and  clamor  in  the  Sioux 
village  over  the  success  of  the  foray  continued  pretty 
much  through  the  night,  but  it  did  not  disturb  the 
rest  of  the  tired  prisoner,  who  slept  "like  a  log,"  as 
he  himself  expressed  it  later. 

When  he  awoke  it  was  past  sunup,  and  the  in- 
terior of  the  skin  tepee,  which  he  had  occupied  in 
company  with  several  bucks  who  must  have  come  in 
later,  was  quite  light. 

If  Cuthbert  was  worried  over  the  peculiar  condi- 
tions that  confronted  him,  he  gave  no  indication  of 
the  fact. 

Apparently  this  thing  of  being  carried  off  in  so 


The  Sioux  Village.  127 

romantic  a  manner  was  a  novelty  that  might  not  be 
so  very  unpleasant  to  a  young  adventure-loving  fel- 
low, who  could  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 

He  stepped  over  the  recumbent  forms  of  the  two 
braves,  yet  light  as  was  his  tread  one  of  them  opened 
his  eyes  and  with  only  a  grunt  arose  to  follow  him 
from  the  lodge. 

Cuthbert  concluded  the  old  chief  had  instituted 
these  two  his  guards,  and  doubtless  had  threatened 
dire  consequences  in  case  through  their  neglect  of 
duty  the  prisoner  escaped. 

Ordinarily  it  might  be  expected  that  being  con- 
sidered a  person  of  such  importance  would  arouse 
a  feeling  of  satisfaction,  yet  Cuthbert  believed  he 
would  willingly  descend  from  his  pedestal  and  do 
without  his  attendants  could  he  be  once  more  trans- 
ported to  the  side  of  his  chum  in  the  shadows  of  the 
long,  low  building  at  Sunset  Ranch. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AN       INDIAN       BRAVE. 

Once  outside  the  tepee  and  Cuthbert  saw  a  sight 
that  was  full  of  interest  for  him. 

An  Indian  village  is  always  picturesque,  no  mat- 
ter how  dirty,  just  as  a  gypsy  camp  charms  the  eye, 
while  the  nose  may  at  the  same  time  take  objections 
to  the  facts. 

Especially  interesting  is  the  early  hour  when  the 
blue  smoke  from  many  fires  is  curling  upward  into 
the  clear  morning  air,  and  the  odor  of  cooking 
greets  the  hungry  observer.  Doubtless  the  rollick- 
ing- orgies  of  baked  dog  and  its  accompaniments,  to- 
gether with  a  celebration  that  lasted  far  into  the 
small  hours  of  the  night,  had  proven  a  little  too 
much  for  the  usually  early  rising  inhabitants  of  the 
big  Sioux  village,  for,  although  the  sun  was  up,  hav- 
ing stolen  a  march  upon  them,  they  were  still  creep- 
ing out  of  their  lodges,  looking  the  worse  for  their 
frolic. 

It  was  in  truth  a  pretty  scene,  and  Cuthbert  found 
himself  able  to  admire  it,  forgetting  his  own  troubles 
for  the  moment. 

The  village  was  delightfully  situated,  with  trees 
around  its  borders,  a  bulwark  of  hazel  bushes  skirt- 
ing one  end,  and  the  river  gurgling  close  by. 

Overhead  flew  the  king  bird — buzzards  sailed  ma- 
jestically in  the  heavens,  or  perched  upon  neighbor- 
ing trees,  scavengers  of  the  village,  while  here  a 
long-legged  blue  crane  stalked  along  the  river  bank 
intent  upon  his  morning  meal,  which  he  waded  in 
to  secure. 

Yes,  the  lodges,  marked  with  rude  drawings  in- 
tended to  represent  the  prowess  of  their  owners  in 


An  Indian  Brave.  129 

battle  and  the  chase,  the  gypsy-like  fires,  the  prowl- 
ing curs,  the  neighing  horses  in  their  corral,  the 
lounging  bucks,  busy  squaws  and  playing  young- 
sters— all  these  things  Cuthbert  saw  and  compre- 
hended in  one  picture  that  would  never  leave  his 
mind.  Whether  his  stay  with  these  nomads  of  the 
wilderness  be  long  or  short,  it  had  come  about  with- 
out any  design  on  his  part,  and  he  determined  that 
he  might  just  as  well  learn  all  he  could  of  their  ways, 
their  peculiar  customs  descended  from  remote  an- 
cestors, and,  in  brief,  give  himself  over  wholly  to  the 
enjoyment  of  the  singular  experience,  rather  than 
mope  about  bemoaning  his  sad  fate. 

If  he  was  to  be  the  adopted  son  of  so  great  a  chief 
as  Standing  Elk,  there  would  doubtless  come  to  him 
certain  honors  that  might  in  a  measure  compensate 
him  for  the  loss  of  his  freedom. 

So,  flinging  away  dull  care,  Cuthbert  endeavored 
to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  novel  situation  with  a 
vim  that  was  bound  to  gain  the  good  will  of  his 
new,  dusky  brothers. 

He  soon  discovered  Standing  Elk's  tepee,  as  it 
was  of  greater  dimensions  than  most  of  the  others — 
in  fact,  only  the  council  lodge  exceeded  it  in  size. 

The  artistic  decorations  were  doubtless  very  ele- 
gant from  an  Indian  point  of  view,  and  Cuthbert 
found  them  interesting  enough,  though  he  believed 
he  could  have  improved  upon  the  manner  of  their 
execution. 

They  portrayed  a  long  and  eventful  career,  in 
which  Standing  Elk  had  done  his  share  of  hard 
fighting — perhaps  his  recent  successful  raid  might 
be  described  by  characters  only  intelligible  to  the 
sign-reading  red  man. 

In  one  place  Cuthbert  discovered  some  rude  at- 
tempts at  describing  soldiers  on  horses,  surrounded 
by  Indians,  the  soldiers  being  cut  down  to  the  last 
man. 


130  An  Indian  Brave. 

His  mind  at  once  flew  to  the  massacre  of  dash- 
ing General  Custer  and  his  command  on  the  Little 
Big  Horn,  a  horror  still  fresh  in  the  minds  of  all 
those  upon  the  border,  and  the  conviction  grew 
that  Standing  Elk  must  have  participated  in  this 
dreadful  battle. 

The  old  chief  came  out  and  greeted  him  with  a 
cheerful  "How!" 

That  one  word  can  be  made  to  signify  almost 
every  emotion  from  anger  to  delight,  when  falling 
from  an  Indian's  lips. 

Cuthbert  gravely  shook  hands  with  the  chief, 
whom  contact  with  the  whites  had  given  advantages 
not  possessed  by  all  his  tribes. 

He  could  even  swear  a  little  on  a  pinch,  and  loved 
gold  because  it  represented  more  tobacco  and  fire 
water. 

Cuthbert  drew  him  into  conversation,  and  instead 
of  answering  his  questions  with  grunts  and  shrugs, 
as  usually  an  Indian  will,  Standing  Elk  descended 
from  his  dignity  and  even  strung  a  few  words  to- 
gether after  his  own  peculiar  fashion. 

"Am  I  a  prisoner?"  demanded  the  boy. 

"P'raps,"  said  the  chief,  with  a  grin. 

"You  have  taken  me  away  from  my  people  and 
against  my  will.  I  don't  understand  it  all.  What 
have  I  ever  done  to  you,  chief?" 

"Nice  white  boy,  make  um  big  brave." 

Cuthbert  should  have  been  flattered,  but  just  at 
the  time  he  felt  only  indignant. 

"But  I  don't  want  to  be  a  big  brave — I  prefer  to 
be  with  Karl — you  have  no  right  to  keep  me  here 
against  my  will,"  he  said,  defiantly. 

The  old  chief  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Me  wanted  Karl — he  too  quick  with  shoot. 
Nother  time,  mebbe." 

There  was  apparently  little  satisfaction  to  be  got- 
ten out  of  this  stubborn  old  fellow,  who  had  been 


"  'I  give  you  warning.  Chief,  that 
soon  as  I  can.'  "     See  page  131. 


I'm  going  to  escape  as 


An  Indian  Brave.  131 

brought  up  to  believe  that  might  made  right,  and 
who  could  only  be  brought  to  his  senses  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  Uncle  Sam's  boys  in  blue,  his  old-time 
hated  and  feared  enemies. 

"Well,  I  give  you  fair  warning,  chief,  that  I'll 
never  agree  to  stay  here,  and  that  I'm  going  to  es- 
cape just  as  soon  as  I  can." 

Instead  of  showing  signs  of  anger  at  this  bold 
speech,  the  old  rascal  chuckled,  as  though  it  really 
tickled  him. 

"White  boy  better  um  not — heap  distance,  much 
danger — no  good.  Stay  here,  be  happy,  eat  much 
baked  dog,  hunt,  fish,  loaf,  ugh !" 

Evidently  he  had  learned  what  his  paleface  broth- 
ers called  the  lazy,  lounging  manner  of  living  to 
which  Indian  braves  are  accustomed,  and  which  pos- 
sesses charm  for  their  souls. 

To  be  able  to  loaf  ought  to  be  sufficient  induce- 
ment to  any  young  chap. 

Cuthbert  gave  it  up. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  convince  this  thick- 
headed aborigine  that  he  could  never  be  happy  un- 
der such  conditions. 

Better  save  his  breath  to  ask  questions  of  those 
who  might  give  up  a  little  information  to  pay  him 
for  his  pains. 

"Where  am  I  to  get  my  breakfast?"  he  asked, 
as  an  after-thought. 

The  chief  pointed  to  a  fire  close  by,  where  a  fat 
squaw,  evidently  Mrs.  Standing  Elk,  was  engaged 
in  primitive  cooking. 

"All  right,  only  be  sure  and  have  plenty,  for  I'm 
a  regular  jim-dandy  when  it  comes  to  making  grub 
disappear." 

"You  tell  um,"  said  the  chief,  leering,  and  Cuth- 
bert somehow  conceived  the  idea  that  perhaps  this 
renowned  warrior  might  stand  -a  little  in  awe  of  his 
better  half — such  things  are  rare  among  the  red 


132  An  Indian  Brave. 

men,  who  usually  treat  their  squaws  like  slaves,  but 
it  might  be  possible  that  Standing  Elk's  spouse  had 
a  tongue  which  gave  him  some  trouble. 

Cuthbert  knew  how  to  get  into  the  good  graces 
of  the  other  sex,  and  he  went  to  considerable 
trouble  now  to  conciliate  the  buxom  squaw,  with 
such  success  that  she  was  presently  beaming  upon 
him  indulgently. 

He  assisted  her  with  the  fire,  something  no  boy 
or  man  had  perhaps  ever  done  before  in  the  whole 
course  of  her  natural  life,  to  judge  from  the  ex- 
pression of  amazement  that  first  spread  over  her 
countenance. 

Cuthbert  soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Indian 
life  was  very  one-sided — that  to  the  male  half  fell 
all  the  good  times,  the  jolly  rides,  the  fishing  and 
hunting  trips,  and  the  frequent  spells  of  sweet  idle- 
ness, while  the  women  were  usually  busily  engaged 
cooking,  making  pemmican,  grinding  corn  or  berries 
in  coffee-mills  purchased  from  traders,  sewing  buck- 
skin, bead-trimmed  moccasins,  or  something  of  this 
sort. 

Still,  they  were  able  to  come  together  and  hold 
conversation  while  they  worked,  and  this  he  soon 
learned  was  their  great  privilege. 

The  dogs  of  the  village  were  both  numerous  and 
ugly.  They  showed  their  teeth  and  growled  at  the 
white  boy,  doubtless  looking  on  him  in  the  light 
of  an  intruder,  and  this  became  such  a  nuisance 
that  Cuthbert  resolved  to  put  a  stop  to  it. 

Accordingly  he  possessed  himself  of  the  first 
likely-looking  cudgel  and  bided  his  time. 

When  a  troop  of  the  mangy  curs  disputed  his 
right  to  free  passage,  he  bounded  into  their  midst 
and  laid  about  him  with  such  right  good  will  that 
a  panic  ensued. 

Such  barking  and  howling  as  ensue'd,  such  a  scam- 
pering of  dogs  with  tails  between  their  legs;  every 


An  Indian  Brave.  133 

inhabitant  of  the  village  came  out  to  ascertain  what 
was  the  matter,  and  added  their  whoops  and  laughter 
to  the  din. 

Cuthbert  had  accomplished  what  he  wanted — but 
he  deemed  it  wise  to  carry  a  stick  for  some  little 
time,  lest  the  dogs  rise  against  him,  and  by  a  con- 
certed movement  give  him  trouble. 

But  they  had  received  a  severe  lesson  and  learned 
to  respect  his  valor. 

Wherever  he  went  they  snarled,  but  slunk  out  of 
his  way. 

Heroic  measures  had  accomplished  what  other 
means  could  hardly  have  done,  for  these  mixed  In- 
dian curs  do  not  seem  amenable  to  kindness,  having 
too  much  of  the  treacherous  wolf  strain  in  their 
make-up. 

That  day  Cuthbert  put  in  after  the  manner  of  an 
adventurous  mariner  on  a  voyage  of  discovery. 

He  roamed  all  about  the  town,  and  even  its  out- 
skirts came  under  his  observation. 

Seeing  some  squaws  bearing  steaming  bowls  of 
food  along  a  trail,  he  had  the  curiosity  to  follow 
in  their  wake. 

He  knew  a  lounging  brave  kept  an  eye  on  him,  to 
round  him  up  in  case  he  made  a  break  for  liberty; 
but  Cuthbert  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  at- 
tempting so  foolish  a  move  until  he  could  be  in 
better  trim  to  meet  the  dangers  of  the  prairie. 

To  his  surprise  he  presently  found  himself  in  the 
cemetery  of  the  village. 

Standing  Elk's  people  had  evidently  been  located 
here  for  many  years,  or  else  this  was  one  of  their 
several  village  sites,  for  the  burial  place  of  the  tribe 
indicated  as  much. 

First  of  all  Cuthbert  saw  a  circle  of  white,  glisten- 
ing skulls. 

A  young  squaw  was  squatted  upon  the  ground 
fondling  one  of  these  relics,  crooning  tribal  songs, 


134  An  Indian  Brave. 

and  in  every  way  showing  the  affection  which  years 
had  not  killed. 

And  yet,  in  all  probability,  her  brave  had,  while  in 
life,  treated  her  harshly,  as  is  their  almost  universal 
custom,  and  even  beaten  her  when  he  felt  particu- 
larly ugly. 

Perhaps,  Cuthbert  thought,  she  loved  him  more 
dead  than  when  in  the  flesh. 

Skirting  this  ring  of  relics,  at  irregular  intervals 
he  saw  elevated  platforms,  some  six  or  seven  feet 
from  the  ground,  and  upon  these  were  lashed  the 
dead,  wrapped  in  many  deerskins  until  they  resem- 
bled mummies. 

Safely  out  of  reach  of  the  wolves,  they  remained 
there  until  time  and  decay  tumbled  the  supports 
over  and  scattered  the  bones,  which  were  then  bur- 
ied, all  save  the  skull,  for  which  a  place  was  made 
in  the  magic  ring. 

To  these  platforms  bearing  recent  victims  of 
death's  terrors  went  the  squaws  whom  Cuthbert  had 
followed. 

The  dish  containing  hot  food  was  held  up  so  that 
the  steam  crept  over  the  platform  and,  of  course, 
vanished. 

This  steam,  possessing  the  odor  of  the  viands,  was 
called  spirit  food,  and  the  poor  creatures  actually 
believed  it  served  the  soul  of  the  departed  on  his 
long  journey  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Grounds. 

It  was  ludicrous  in  one  way,  and  yet  Cuthbert  had 
a  feeling  of  awe  creep  over  him,  such  were  the  grue- 
some surroundings. 

The  bowls  of  food  were  left  on  the  ground,  and 
no  doubt  must  have  been  highly  enjoyed  by  the 
prowling  coyotes  and  wolves  always  hovering 
around  an  Indian  burial  spot. 

It  was  late  in  the  day,  after  sunset,  when  he  left 
the  weird  cemetery. 

Already  twilight  was  stealing  over  the  land,  and 


An  Indian  Brave.  135 

several  of  the  boldest  wolves  raised  their  melodious 
voices,  as  if  eager  to  get  at  their  customary  meal. 

Cuthbert  trod  over  the  rattlesnake  weed  and  wild 
roses  that  grew  everywhere,  heading  for  the  village, 
where  the  cheery  glow  of  fires  could  be  seen  that 
told  of  another  meal. 

The  drowsy  chirp  of  crickets,  and  the  shrill  voices 
of  katydids  sounded  among  the  wild  plum  trees  and 
the  hazel  bushes,  telling  of  the  August  night  and  the 
frost  in  store. 

One  thing  Cuthbert  desired  to  investigate,  and 
this,  chief  of  all,  aroused  his  curiosity. 

It  was  the  weird  old  medicine  man,  that  worthy 
who  assumes  the  office  of  doctor  and  druggist,  as 
well  as  oracle,  for  every  tribe — who,  by  his  incanta- 
tions, appeases  the  wrath  of  the  Evil  Spirit,  prophe- 
sies coming  events,  attends  to  those  who  are  sick, 
bestows  magic  talismans  on  those  able  to  pay  for 
protection,  and,  in  a  word,  holds  the  tribe,  from  the 
big  chief  down,  in  the  hollow  of  his  skinny  hand. 

He  is  always  a  keen-witted,  unscrupulous  rascal, 
who  knows  full  well  how  best  to  play  upon  the  super- 
stitious nature  of  his  fellows,  and  who  can  readily 
manufacture  an  excuse  that  sounds  reasonable 
enough  whenever  one  of  his  prophecies  goes  wrong. 

Cuthbert  had  never  been  able  to  get  on  visiting 
terms  with  the  big  medicine,  when  the  tribe  to  which 
Little  Buckshot  belonged  had  taken  up  temporary 
quarters  in  the  vicinity  of  Sunset  Ranch. 

His  ambition  was  still  unsatisfied,  and  he  resolved 
to  make  some  discoveries  in  this  quarter  if  the  op- 
portunity opened. 

He  could  hear  the  old  fellow  holding  forth  now, 
beating  some  sort  of  tom-tom,  now  slowly  and  anon 
with  fierce  emphasis,  all  the  while  chanting  what  was 
doubtless  an  ode  to  the  departing  day,  or  an  invo- 
cation to  the  spirits  of  the  night. 

At  least  the  wild,  barbaric  music  seemed  just  in 


136  An  Indian  Brave. 

keeping  with  the  blinking  fires  and  the  dusky  fig- 
ures seen  moving  among  them,  the  conical,  deco- 
rated tepees  and  the  strange  scene  he  had  just  left 
at  the  Indian  graveyard. 

Cuthbert  was  thrilled  with  the  weirdness  sur- 
rounding him. 

A  little  of  it  went  a  great  way. 

If  he  had  ever  been  foolish  enough  to  express  a 
desire  to  spend  some  time  in  an  Indian  village  he 
regretted  it  now,  and  was  ready  to  repent. 

His  one  wish  now  was  to  see  Sunset  Ranch  again, 
and  dear  old  Karl. 

He  believed  he  would  starve  under  such  cooking 
as  prevailed  among  the  Sioux — true,  they  had  some 
frying  pans  and  tin  kettles,  purchased  from  the  set- 
tlers with  whom  they  traded  pelts,  buffalo  heads 
and  robes,  but  the  trouble  was  they  failed  to  use 
them — a  chunk  of  meat  thrust  into  the  fire  from  the 
end  of  a  prong  of  wood  answered  when  there  was 
nothing  to  boil  in  the  black  pot. 

So  he  resolved  to  do  his  own  cooking  in  the  fu- 
ture, that  is,  providing  the  good  dame  of  the  chief's 
household  permitted. 

Some  more  diplomacy  on  his  part  was  needed  in 
order  to  conciliate  the  squaw,  lest  she  take  offense, 
womanlike,  because  her  guest  failed  to  appreciate 
her  cooking,  for  even  a  poor  Sioux  housekeeper 
may  have  her  ideas  upon  the  superiority  of  her  corn- 
bread  over  that  of  her  dark-skinned  sisters. 

It  was  a  feather  in  his  cap  that  he  even  accom- 
plished this  delicate  job. 

Standing  Elk  viewed  the  whole  arrangement  with 
considerable  astonishment. 

Perhaps  he  was  learning  for  the  first  time  in  his 
benighted  life  that  there  may  be  other  ways  to  in- 
fluence the  wife  of  one's  bosom  to  do  one's  will  save 
that  time-honored  one  of  knocking  her  down  first. 

And  his  admiration  for  the  lad  increased,  since  he 


An  Indian  Brave.  137 

had  bearded  a  Tartar  in  her  den-  and  won  a  place 
in  her  regard. 

Cuthbert,  intent  on  making  the  acquaintance  of 
the  medicine  man,  sauntered  over  to  the  tepee  where 
he  held  forth. 

It  bore  hideous  character-drawings,  done  in  bril- 
liant colors,  and  reminded  him  somewhat  of  a  cir- 
cus tent. 

The  old  fraud  sat  in  his  doorway,  smoking. 

He  looked  well  satisfied  with  life,  as  though  things 
were  coming  his  way  and  he  had  no  occasion  to 
complain. 

At  close  quarters,  Cuthbert  discovered  him  to  be 
a  gaunt,  ugly  chap,  who  delighted  in  making  him- 
self more  hideous  even  than  Nature  had  done, 
though,  to  give  her  credit,  she  had  certainly  at- 
tempted her  best. 

His  eye  sparkled  like  that  of  a  massasauga  rat- 
tlesnake, and  his  nails  were  talons,  while  the  lib- 
eral daubs  of  brilliant  paint  and  the  colored  feath- 
ers he  carried,  gave  him  a  very  killing  appearance  as 
a  venerable  seer. 

Cuthbert  had  his  course  planned. 

Soft  words  had  won  with  the  squaw,  but  would 
they  have  any  effect  upon  the  steel  armor  of  this 
suspicious  mountebank? 

He  bowed  low  before  the  old  fellow  and,  laying 
one  hand  on  his  breast  and  with  the  other  remov- 
ing his  cap,  he  said: 

"May  I  speak  with  you,  oh,  sir?" 

He  found  it  hard  to  restrain  his  mirth  as  he 
watched  the  expression  on  the  medicine  man's  face 
from  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"Speak !"  said  the  old  man,  grandly  flourishing  his 
hand. 

"I  have  hear'd  of  your  fame,"  said  Cuthbert,  truth- 
fully enough,  for  he  was  revered  by  the  other  In- 


138  An  Indian  Brave. 

dians,  "and  I  almost  fear  to  come  into  your  pres- 
ence." 

"Fear!"  repeated  the  medicine  man.  "Why  for 
fear  me?  I  no  kill.  I  make  well.  You  un'stand?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Cuthbert,  "but  you  are  so  ter- 
rible in  appearance,  doctor." 

The  grin  on  the  old  man's  face  became  more  hor- 
rible. 

"Ah!  me  one  big  terror.     So!" 

And  he  threw  out  his  long  talons  ancl  shook  his 
shaggy  mane  and  banged  his  instruments. 

"Altogether  this  medicine  man  is  something  I 
wouldn't  have  missed  for  a  good  deal,"  said  Cuth- 
bert to  himself. 

"I  count  this,"  he  said  aloud,  "a  proud  moment 
when  I  can  stand  in  the  presence  of  so  renowned  a 
doctor." 

Flattery  accomplishes  wonders  in  this  world,  and 
Cuthbert  was  really  as  able  to  spread  it  on  as  though 
he  had  been  on  a  trip  to  Limerick  and  Blarney 
Castle. 

By  degrees  he  melted  the  reserve  of  the  big  med- 
icine— he  praised  his  appearance,  asked  many  ques- 
tions that  tickled  the  ancient  humbug,  and  quite 
won  his  heart  by  calling  him,  as  if  inadvertantly, 
doctor ! 

The  medicine  man  felt  the  high  compliment — he 
knew  that  among  the  whites  a  doctor  must  be 
learned  in  his  profession,  and  is  usually  looked  up  to 
with  reverence. 

It  was  a  clever  inspiration  on  Cuthbert's  part  to 
thus  honor  one  whose  whole  life  had  been  spent  in 
quackery. 

"Ha !  White  boy  know  somethings !"  said  the  old 
medicine  man,  at  last,  with  a  pleased  grin.  "Ugh! 
Me  like  white  boy!  My  little  white  brother  very 
young.  Oh,  so  very  young!  But  he  very  wise. 
Good!  White  boy  come.  I  show  him," 


An  Indian  Brave.  139 

And  so  speaking,  he  led  Cuthbert  into  his  special 
audience  chamber,  where  he  might,  with  his  own 
eyes,  behold  the  wonderful  array  of  curiosities  he 
had  gathered  during  his  reign,  and  the  clever  im- 
plements with  which  he  rattled  or  tooted  an  evil 
spirit  out  of  a  sick  man's  body. 

That  lodge  was  a  sacred  place  and  a  fearsome 
abode  in  the  eyes  of  all  Standing  Elk's  people;  but 
the  white  boy  strode  carelessly  in  after  his  guide, 
with  no  feeling  of  awe,  only  intense  curiosity. 

Well,  it  was  worth  observing. 

Cuthbert  certainly  believed  he  had  never  before 
looked  upon  so  many  things  calculated  to  bring  a 
cold  chill  down  one's  back — rattlesnakes,  stuffed, 
horned  toads,  Gila  monsters,  great  staring  beetles, 
necklaces  of  grizzly  bear  claws  that  betokened  a 
great  warrior,  strings  of  odd,  dried  up  bunches  of 
hair,  which  Cuthbert  guessed  must  be  hideous  me- 
mentoes of  past  battles  or  butcheries,  scalps,  in 
fact — these  and  many  more  similar  articles  formed 
quite  a  museum. 

It  must  have  shaken  the  nerves  of  any  brave  to 
find  himself  surrounded  by  such  a  medley,  and  no 
doubt  the  arrant  old  humbug  wondered  much  be- 
cause the  white  boy  showed  not  the  slightest  symp- 
tom of  fear. 

He  must  possess  a  totem  or  amulet  that  rendered 
him  impervious  to  the  magic  influences  which,  from 
long  habit,  the  medicine  man  actually  believed  in 
himself. 

Cuthbert  had  him  rattle  the  hollow  gourds  and 
shake  the  string  of  rusty  sleigh  bells  which  he  had 
in  some  way  picked  up. 

The  cunning  old  necromancer  had  in  truth  been 
bewitched  by  a  mere  lad,  and  seemed  quite  ready  to 
stand  on  his  head,  if  requested. 

After  all  it  was  not  so  much  a  glimpse  of  his  tools 
in  trade  Cuthbert  desired,  but  a  chance  to  watch 


140  An  Indian  Brave. 

him  drive  the  evil  spirits  from  the  bed  of  a  sick 
Indian,  or  execute  one  of  his  fantastic  dances  when 
the  time  came  for  the  propitiation  of  an  infuriated 
god. 

Perhaps  in  time  he  would  even  have  the  good 
luck  to  see  all  this,  if  he  remained  in  the  Sioux 
village  long  enough  and  kept  in  the  favor  of  the 
medicine  man. 

Cuthbert  was  satisfied  with  his  day's  work. 

He  had  learned  much  and  had  made  friends,  two 
things  bound  to  tell  in  the  end. 

Thus  several  days  passed. 

Life  began  to  grow  monotonous. 

A  palace  is  a  prison  to  one  who  may  not  pass 
beyond  its  portals,  and  the  young  fellow,  accus- 
tomed to  liberty  in  its  widest  significance,  began  to 
feel  like  a  bird  that  beats  its  poor  head  against  the 
bars  of  its  cage. 

Now  escape  began  to  be  ever  in  his  mind — he 
thought  of  it  night  and  day. 

By  slow  degrees  he  began  to  shape  his  policy,  and 
all  this  had  to  be  done  without  arousing  the  sus- 
picions of  Standing  Elk  and  his  clan. 

As  the  evening  fell  Cuthbert  used  to  repair  to  a 
rock  near  by  and  gaze  sadly  in  the  direction  he 
knew  Sunset  Ranch  must  be. 

At  such  a  time  he  was  apt  to  be  almost  over- 
whelmed by  the  intensity  of  the  emotions  that  swept 
over  him. 

Yet,  when  sauntering  into  camp  soon  after,  he 
appeared  just  as  jolly  and  free  from  care  as  ever. 

Thus  he  believed  he  was  quieting  the  suspicions 
of  his  quondam  red  brothers — at  least,  they  allowed 
him  more  liberties,  took  him  bear  hunting  among 
the  wild  passes  to  the  north,  where  Cuthbert  was 
able  to  do  excellent  work  with  his  reliable  old  Win- 
chester, placed  in  his  hands  for  this  occasion,  and 
in  many  other  ways  tried  to  make  him  feel  that  he 


An  Indian  Brave.  141 

was  one  of  them,  having  been  solemnly  taken  into 
the  tribe  with  great  ceremony. 

And  so  the  days  glided  by,  without  a  sign  from 
Karl  and  the  reckless  cowboys  of  Sunset  Ranch, 
making  Cuthbert  imagine  that  if  he  ever  hoped  to 
be  free  again  it  must  come  through  his  own  exer- 
tions. 

Thus  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  hour  when,  as 
fate  decreed,  he  should  learn  the  true  reason  of  his 
strange  abduction — perhaps  it  would  hurt  his  con- 
ceit somewhat,  but  at  the  same  time  the  knowledge 
must  act  as  a  spur  upon  his  resolution  to  give  his 
new  Sioux  comrades  the  slip  and  take  French  leave 
between  the  setting  and  the  rising  of  the  sun. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

TAKING  FRENCH  LEAVE. 

After  all  there  was  some  sort  of  peculiar  fascina- 
tion and  charm  about  this  wild  life  Cuthbert  led 
when  among  the  Sioux. 

It  seemed  to  appeal  to  an  element  in  his  nature 
that  must  have  descended  from  remote  ancestors. 

He  was  fond  of  the  picturesque,  and  the  Indian 
village,  at  the  hour  when  the  evening  meal  was 
being  prepared,  certainly  presented  a  peculiar  scene, 
with  the  sparkling  fires,  the  curling,  drifting  smoke, 
the  gayly-garbed  squaws  bending  low  or  flitting  from 
lodge  to  lodge,  the  gamboling  papooses,  lads  at 
play,  warriors  stalking  gravely  about  or  smoking  se- 
renely beside  their  tepee,  curs  barking  or  rushing 
hither  and  yon  in  packs,  and  Indian  ponies  in  the 
stout  corral. 

Yes,  he  would  remember  it  all  during  the  remain- 
der of  his  life. 

But  all  this  did  not  make  him  change  the  resolu- 
tion he  had  taken. 

He  yearned  for  the  society  of  his  kind. 

"This  wild  life  may  be  all  very  well  for  a  time," 
he  said  to  himself,  and  then  he  added,  with  a  smile, 
"but  then  one  really  gets  too  much  of  a  good  thing." 

His  mind  went  back  to  many  pleasant  episodes 
in  which  Karl  figured,  wild  chases  over  the  flowery 
prairie,  the  momentous  night  when  Buckskin  car- 
ried them  both  to  safety,  and  the  river,  with  the 
awful  fire  roaring  behind — then  once  more  he  ex- 
perienced in  imagination  the  chilly  blast  of  the  bliz- 
zard that  so  nearly  terminated  Little  Buckshot's  life. 

It  was  always  Karl  who  was  in  his  mind — Karl, 
who  seemed  dearer  to  him  than  a  brother. 


Taking  French  Leave.      143 

So  the  days  crept  on,  and  Cuthbert  began  to  make 
secret  preparations  for  quitting  the  Sioux  lodges. 

He  believed  he  could  comprehend  what  a  task 
there  was  set  before  him. 

It  might  have  tried  an  old  ranger  like  Silas  Gregg, 
let  alone  a  boy  who  only  a  year  back  had  been  an 
utter  greenhorn. 

When  his  flight  should  be  discovered,  doubtless  a 
hot  pursuit  would  be  made. 

Standing  Elk  had  especially  desired  Karl  for  adop- 
tion, but  he  seemed  ready  to  make  the  best  of  a  bad 
bargain,  and  to  have  contented  himself  with  a  lesser 
light. 

Cuthbert  had  all  along  been  looked  upon  with 
jealous  eyes  by  the  Indian  youths  of  about  his  own 
size  and  age. 

They  seemed  to  think  he  was  a  usurper — that  he 
had  no  business  among  them,  especially  in  so  ex- 
alted a  position  as  son  and  possible  heir  to  the  great 
chief,  Standing  Elk. 

Consequently  these  dusky  lads  never  lost  an  op- 
portunity to  challenge  him  to  a  duel  of  some  sort. 

Now  it  was  a  contest  of  skill  with  the  rifle,  in 
which,  of  course,  Cuthbert  easily  excelled — anon  he 
was  called  upon  to  meet  the  champion  wrestler  of 
the  youthful  tribe,  before  whom  all  had  gone  down 
as  dead  grass  in  the  teeth  of  the  prairie  fire. 

By  nature  Cuthbert  had  been  endowed  with  a  pe- 
culiarly sturdy  frame,  although  he  had  never  reached 
the  perfection  of  agility  and  power  until  he  had  been 
coached  by  Karl,  and  spent  these  long  months 
among  the  cowboys. 

He  tackled  the  Indian  wrestler,  but  the  redskin's 
style  of  fighting,  together  with  his  almost  naked, 
slippery  figure,  baffled  the  white  lad  for  quite  a  time, 
so  that  they  struggled  like  two  cottonwoods  shaken 
by  the  blasts  of  winter. 

At  length,  however,   Cuthbert  managed  to  dis- 


144      Taking  French  Leave. 

cover  the  weak  point  of  his  adversary,  and  put  him 
on  his  back  so  suddenly  that  the  Indian  brave  did 
not  know  how  it  was  done. 

After  that  he  had  things  his  own  way,  but  in- 
stead of  lording  it  over  his  companions,  he  con- 
sidered it  policy  to  seek  their  friendship. 

Every  day  saw  some  ambitious  youngster  chal- 
lenge the  intruder  to  a  new  test  of  endurance. 

Sometimes  these  were  of  a  character  so  utterly 
unfamiliar  to  Cuthbert  that  he  lost  the  first  round, 
but  took  it  good-naturedly,  and  in  the  return  bout 
was  sure  to  come  out  ahead. 

Thus  he  finally  came  to  the  conclusion  that  de- 
spite their  training  from  infancy,  the  young  Sioux 
braves  were  not  equal  man  for  man  to  many  tough 
cowboys  he  knew,  and  that  the  Indian  race  was  far 
inferior  as  a  whole  to  the  white  in  physical  as  well 
as  mental  calibre. 

He  began  to  despair  of  gaining  their  good  will. 

An  Indian  finds  it  hard  to  forgive  one  who  has 
humiliated  him. 

These  successive  victories  cost  him  friends,  since 
each  defeated  competitor  nursed  the  savage  desire 
for  revenge. 

In  time  Cuthbert  would  doubtless  have  had 
trouble  with  these  fellows,  eager  to  bring  about  his 
downfall;  but  the  drama  was  hastened  to  a  conclu- 
sion by  other  events  that  had  not  been  down  upon 
the  programme. 

The  fact  that  he  was  more  or  less  spied  upon  by 
some  of  these  disgruntled  boys  made  the  task  he 
had  set  for  himself  the  more  difficult. 

They  were  apt  to  discover  what  he  had  in  mind, 
and  disclose  the  whole  thing  to  the  chief. 

If  Standing  Elk  learned  of  his  secret  preparations 
for  flight,  the  game  would  be  up. 

His  privileges  would  be  curtailed,  and  they  would 
make  him  a  prisoner  in  truth. 


Taking  French  Leave.  145 

Accordingly,  Cuthbert  became  very  cautious  in  all 
his  work  looking  toward  flight. 

He  knew  his  best  hope  lay  in  a  good  horse  and 
a  fair  start. 

The  river  was  friendly  enough,  and  the  bull  boats 
of  the  Sioux,  made  of  buffalo  hide,  seemed  inviting 
a  ready  escape,  but  this  method  was  too  slow,  and 
the  chances  greatly  in  favor  of  his  being  intercepted 
by  fleet  horsemen,  who  could  go  four  miles  to  his 
one,  and  thus  patrol  the  lower  reaches  of  the  river. 

It  must  be  as  he  came— on  horseback. 

And  Buckskin  was  the  animal  he  selected  to 
carry  out  that  part  of  the  scheme. 

Had  he  not  seen  the  broncho  tested  under  the 
most  adverse  circumstances,  and  seldom  with  the 
shadow  of  defeat  upon  his  proud  record? 

Yes,  Buckskin  was  the  first  choice. 

The  animal  had  never  gotten  over  his  singular 
animosity  toward  redskins  in  general,  and  was  de- 
tested as  well  as  feared  by  the  Sioux,  toward  whom 
he  showed  a  vicious  temper. 

A  number  had  tried  to  tame  him,  but  with  meagre 
success,  and  always  with  bruises  and  contusions  ga- 
lore among  themselves. 

Probably  the  gallant  little  buckskin  nag  would 
have  been  killed  ere  now  only  that  Standing  Elk 
took  him  under  his  wing. 

Perhaps  he  really  admired  the  tawny  beast,  or  else 
his  stubborn  grit  appealed  to  the  innate  chivalry  of 
the  chief. 

Cuthbert  was  secretly  inclined  to  believe  that 
Standing  Elk  still  clung  to  the  hope  of  some  day 
securing  Karl,  the  lad  who  he  fancied  resembled 
his  dead  son,  and  that  he  had  an  idea  the  fact  of 
this  horse  being  in  the  hands  of  the  Sioux  might 
sooner  or  later  draw  the  cowboy  thither — in  his 
mind,  it  was  a  connecting  link. 


146  Taking  French  Leave. 

Matters  were  running  along  in  this  groove  when 
a  sudden  change  occurred  that  forced  Cuthbert's 
hand,  and  made  him  adopt  stern  measures  before 
the  time  he  had  set  for  the  carrying  out  of  his  plan. 

The  cool  breath  of  early  fall  was  in  the  air. 

Already  advance  couriers  of  the  frost  king  had 
breathed  upon  certain  sensitive  trees  and  plants, 
causing  their  leaves  to  turn  crimson  or  a  bright 
golden. 

It  was  a  time  when  the  heat  of  summer  having 
passed  away,  one  felt  strong  and  invigorated,  capa- 
ble of  accomplishing  great  things. 

Cuthbert,  by  chance,  was  at  the  corral  petting 
poor  lonely  Buckskin,  who  seemed  to  miss  Karl,  his 
young  master,  so  much,  feeding  him  with  some 
choice  bits  of  grass,  and  whispering  to  him  of  the 
time  soon  coming  when  the  long  pent-up  powers  of 
the  broncho  would  be  put  to  the  most  severe  test  of 
his  life,  in  order  to  carry  Karl's  chum  to  safety. 

A  commotion  on  the  border  of  the  village  at- 
tracted his  attention,  and  looking  in  that  direction, 
he  discovered  quite  a  squad  of  Indians  entering 
camp. 

At  every  step  their  numbers  were  augmented  by 
recruits  from  the  village,  who  added  their  voices 
to  the  clamor. 

Not  to  be  outdone,  the  pariah  dogs  barked  and 
howled,  horses  neighed,  and,  taken  in  all,  the  hub- 
bub equaled  that  which  greeted  the  party  returning 
with  the  horses  stolen  from  Sunset  Ranch  at  the 
time  he  himself  was  made  a  prisoner. 

There  were  no  horses,  no  cattle  being  driven  or 
dragged  now,  but  in  the  midst  of  the  band  he  dis- 
covered one  who  wore  the  well-known  garb  of  a 
cowboy.  j 

Another  prisoner,  Cuthbert  thought,  and  his  heart 
beat  like  a  trip-hammer  when  he  remembered  Karl, 


Taking  French  Leave.  147 

whom  the  chief  desired  to  secure.  Was  it  his  friend, 
his  more  than  brother? 

Buckskin  was  forgotten. 

He  left  the  corral  instantly  and  zigzagged  across 
the  intervening  space,  taking  advantage  of  several 
tepees  on  the  way. 

All  the  while  his  heart  was  in  his  throat,  so  to 
speak,  while  his  eyes  remained  ^lued  upon  the  fig- 
ure riding  amidst  the  returning  braves. 

The  opportunity  for  which  he  yearned  came  at  last, 
and  he  discovered  that  the  newcomer  was  not  Karl 
after  all. 

Cuthbert  hardly  knew  whether  joy  or  grief  pre- 
dominated in  his  heart — although  he  would  have 
been  sorry  to  have  seen  his  friend  a  captive,  still  he 
must  have  experienced  a  fierce  satisfaction  at  being 
thus  reunited  to  him,  even  under  such  peculiar  con- 
ditions. 

Looking  again,  he  recognized  the  newcomer  as 
one  of  Kelly's  rough  riders,  a  man  of  middle  age, 
Caleb  Cross  by  name. 

Somehow  Cuthbert  had  never  fancied  this  man. 

He  was  a  good  cowboy,  valuable  on  the  range,  and 
a  man  who  lived  within  himself,  moodv  and  taciturn. 

Perhaps  this  disposition  was  what  soured  the  boy 
with  Caleb — as  a  general  thing  cowboys  and  herders 
are  a  cheerful,  social  set,  so  that  such  a  man  makes 
few  friends  among  them. 

To  Cuthbert  he  seemed  a  man  with  a  history, 
whose  melancholy  thoughts  had  to  deal  with  trage- 
dies of  the  past. 

At  first  his  presence  aroused  keen  hopes. 

Surely  it  indicated  the  presence  of  a  friendly  force 
somewhere  in  the  neighborhood. 

At  last,  after  these  weary  weeks,  Kelly's  men  had 
struck  the  right  trail  and  might  soon  be  in  substan- 
tial evidence. 


148  Taking  French  Leave. 

It  was  a  pleasant  thought,  but  Cuthbert  Hid  not 
have  much  opportunity  to  take  consolation  from  it. 

He  suddenly  became  aware  of  the  fact  that  the 
cowboy  did  not  look  or  act  dejected — his  manner, 
instead  of  crestfallen,  appeared  to  be  jaunty,  as 
though  he  were  glad  to  be  there. 

Cuthbert  was  surprised,  but  his  feelings  grew  even 
stronger  when  he  saw  Caleb  Cross  meet  old  Stand- 
ing Elk  as  though  they  were  friends  of  long  stand- 
ing. 

One  last  dim  hope  flashed  feebly  up — had  Caleb, 
presuming  upon  some  past  friendship  between  the 
old  chief  and  himself,  entered  the  Sioux  village  with 
the  idea  of  negotiating  for  his  release? 

This  thought  died  almost  instantly.  He  did  not 
believe  the  man  one  to  take  any  trouble  or  risk  un- 
less he  could  see  a  way  clear  to  lining  well  his 
pockets. 

Cuthbert  seemed  to  feel  the  shadow  of  some  com- 
ing disaster — to  realize  that  in  some  way  not  yet 
clear  this  visit  of  Caleb  Cross  had  to  do  with  his 
own  detention  there. 

He  believed  portentious  events  hung  in  the  air, 
which  concerned  his  own  interests. 

So  he  kept  back  and  watched  all  that  went  on. 

Apparently  the  crabbed  cowboy  could  be  genial 
enough  when  he  chose  to  let  down  the  gates,  as 
was  the  case  when  he  met  Standing  Elk. 

They  beamed  on  each  other  and  talked  in  low 
tones,  as  though  business  of  great  importance  was 
demanding  their  attention. 

What  could  the  Sioux  chief  and  one  of  Kelly's 
cow  punchers  have  in  common  ? 

Could  it  be  Cross  was  a  traitor  and  in  league  with 
these  notorious  cattle  thieves,  eager  to  put  them  in 
possession  of  facts  that  would  make  easier  the  next 
raid  that  brought  them  swooping  down  from  their 
secret  fastness  in  the  north? 


Taking  French  Leave.  149 

Cuthbert  shook  his  head  in  dismay  at  the  task  of 
guessing  the  truth. 

He  knew  a  better  way. 

Night  was  creeping  on,  the  shades  of  darkness 
had  already  started  to  cover  the  earth,  and  in  a 
short  time  he  could  carry  out  his  little  design  with- 
out fear  of  discovery. 

This  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  to  steal  a 
march  upon  his  adopted  father  the  big  chief,  and 
listen  to  some  of  his  interesting  conversation  with 
Caleb  Cross. 

Cuthbert  had  been  an  apt  scholar  while  among 
the  Indians,  and  was  able  to  do  himself  proud  upon 
this  occasion,  when  so  much  depended  upon  his 
success. 

The  shadows  were  friendly  and  screened  him  from 
observation,  so  that,  after  much  squirming  after  the 
manner  of  a  snake,  he  was  enabled  to  get  close  up 
behind  the  tepee  of  the  chief. 

From  within  came  the  low  murmur  of  conversa- 
tion, as  Standing  Elk  and  his  guest  chatted  to- 
gether, while  the  squaw  outside  prepared  the  even- 
ing meal. 

Cuthbert's  hearing  was  fairly  good  under  ordi- 
nary conditions,  but  it  was  rendered  extraordinarily 
acute  by  the  circumstances  surrounding  him  just 
then. 

His  reward  came  speedily  enough,  and  in  the 
nature  of  a  staggering  surprise. 

To  Caleb  Cross,  then,  he  owed  the  fact  of  his 
being  a  prisoner  in  the  Sioux  camp. 

That  worthy,  believing  the  stories  floating  about 
among  the  cowboys  of  Kelly's  ranch  concerning  the 
wealth  which  belonged  to  Cuthbert  in  Virginia  and 
New  York,  had  conceived  the  idea  of  making  him 
a  prisoner  among  the  Indians  and  holding  him  there 
an  indefinite  time  pending  a  healthy  ransom. 

It   was  simply  disgusting — a   miserable   money- 


150  Taking  French  Leave. 

making  scheme  after  all,  and  sentiment  had  no  part 
in  it  at  all. 

Standing  Elk  looked  upon  the  white  lad  he  had 
adopted  merely  as  representing  so  much  tobacco  and 
fire  water  when  the  day  of  final  settlement  arrived. 

Cuthbert  was  conscious  of  a  sudden  rise  in  his 
temperature  when  he  heard  enough  to  disclose  these 
facts — indeed,  as  he  himself  phrased  it,  he  "was  hot 
under  the  collar." 

His  indignation  fell  principally  on  the  cowboy. 

Certainly  Caleb  Cross  deserved  the  summary  pun- 
ishment he  would  surely  receive  should  the  truth 
ever  become  known  to  his  fellow-laborers  of  Sunset 
Ranch. 

It  made  the  boy  feel  cheap  to  think  he  had  be- 
come the  victim  of  such  a  very  ancient  scheme. 
Why,  it  was  as  old  as  the  hills,  and  had  been  played 
with  more  or  less  success  these  centuries  back! 

One  thing  was  sure — given  half  a  chance  and  he 
would  disappoint  these  brave  chaps  most  grievously 
— why  delay,  when  different  measures  might  now 
be  taken  for  the  safe  keeping  of  the  lad  who  rep- 
resented a  fortune? 

Yes,  circumstances  over  which  he  had  no  control 
had  forced  his  hand. 

He  must  cut  the  Gordian  knot,  must  leave  the 
quaint  old  Sioux  village,  sever  his  relations  with 
that  prince  of  quacks,  the  medicine  man,  and  make 
tracks  for  Sunset  Ranch. 

The  sooner  the  better. 

Why  not  this  night? 

What  a  thrill  the  proposition  gave  him ;  but  after 
he  had  carefully  considered  matters  it  became  man- 
ifest that  a  better  opportunity  would  not  likely  arise, 
and  the  chances  were,  his  freedom  being  curtailed, 
he  might  find  it  much  harder  in  the  future  to  accom- 
plish the  task. 

That  settled  it. 


Taking  French  Leave.  151 

To-night,  then,  he  would,  like  the  Arab,  "fold  his 
tent  and  silently  steal  away." 

Cuthbert  would  possibly  have  enjoyed  hearing 
more  of  the  interesting  conversation  between  the 
two  trick  conspirators,  but  he  felt  that  time  was 
too  valuable  just  now  to  spend  any  more  of  it  there. 

Besides,  there  was  always  more  or  less  chance  that 
discovery  might  come. 

Accordingly,  he  moved  away  in  much  the  same 
style  as  he  had  advanced. 

There  was  a  great  deal  to  be  done  if  he  expected 
to  quit  the  Sioux  village  in  the  manner  he  had 
planned. 

First,  he  must  secure  his  Winchester  rifle  and 
what  cartridges  remained,  for  Cuthbert  knew  the 
perils  that  might  beset  him  on  the  great  lonely 
wastes,  and  would  have  hesitated  to  accept  his  free- 
dom at  the  expense  of  going  over  that  long  route 
defenseless. 

It  was  in  the  keeping  of  the  old  medicine  man, 
and  Cuthbert  had  frequently  borrowed  it  for  hunt- 
ing purposes,  a  supply  of  cartridges  having  turned 
up  among  other  things  stowed  away  in  that  wonder- 
ful lodge  of  necromancy. 

He  found  the  "doctor,"  as  usual,  at  home,  and 
fancied  the  old  fellow's  beady  eyes  were  a  trifle  more 
piercing  than  ordinary  when  he  placed  the  gun  in 
his  hand. 

The  belt,  too,  was  completely  filled  with  shells, 
a  circumstance  that  made  Cuthbert  wonder  if  his 
old  friend  half  suspected  the  truth. 

All  doubt  was  dispelled  when  at  parting  the  med- 
icine man  gripped  his  hand  and  uttered  some  magic 
words,  as  though  he  would  invoke  success  upon  his 
mission. 

After  all,  he  was  a  rare  old  fraud,  and  Cuthbert 
would  long  remember  his  friendly  ways — what  fruit 
had  sprung  from  his  flattering  designation  of  the 


152      Taking  French  Leave. 

ancient  quack  as  a  "doctor" — surely  it  pays  to  make 
friends,  even  with  the  wizard  of  a  Sioux  village. 

The  gun  and  belt  he  secreted  in  a  hollow  tree, 
which  already  served  him  as  a  storehouse,  wherein 
at  intervals  he  had  deposited  such  food  as  dried 
deer  and  buffalo  meat,  to  serve  him  on  his  expected 
journey. 

The  task  that  next  must  engage  his  attention 
.was  the  securing  of  his  mount. 

Buckskin  must  be  secretly  taken  from  the  corral, 
and  hidden  in  the  woods. 

This,  however,  could  not  be  accomplished  until 
the  village  was  wrapped  in  slumber. 

He  came  in  late  to  supper,  and  purposely  avoided 
the  chief's  tepee,  where  the  cowboy  still  sat,  in  deep 
consultation  with  his  willing  ally. 

No  doubt  it  was  intended  that  on  the  morrow  the 
true  state  of  affairs  should  be  broken  to  the  boy, 
and  the  first  step  taken  looking  toward  the  reali- 
zation of  their  wonderful  plans. 

Cuthbert  grimly  determined  that  when  that  mor- 
row came  he  would  be  many  miles  on  the  road  to 
Sunset  Ranch,  and  hummed  to  himself :  "  'They 
have  fleet  steeds  who  follow/  quoth  young  Lochin- 
var." 

Somehow  the  anticipation  of  what  lay  in  store 
for  him  aroused  Cuthbert's  dormant  ambition,  and 
he  actually  quivered  with  the  eager  thought  of  pit- 
ting his  boyish  powers  against  the  much-vaunted 
prowess  of  these  dusky  sons  of  the  wilderness. 

Standing  Elk  came  several  times  out  of  his  tepee 
and  looked  toward  where  Cuthbert  wrestled  with  the 
Indian  lads,  teaching  them  some  of  the  tricks  he 
had  picked  up  from  the  cow  punchers  and  herd- 
ers, among  whom  was  a  professional  boxer. 

Cuthbert  dreaded  lest  the  old  chief  should  demand 
his  presence,  and  an  explosion  follow,  after  which 


Taking  French  Leave.      15) 

his  liberty  might  be  abridged;  but,  greatly  to  his 
satisfaction,  this  did  not  occur. 

Hope  grew  stronger  in  his  heart. 

At  least  he  would  be  given  a  chance. 

If  the  effort  turned  out  a  dismal  failure,  he  could 
always  feel  that  he  had  done  his  best. 

The  minutes  dragged. 

Really,  never  in  all  his  life  had  a  space  of  sixty 
seconds  seemed  so  long  to  him. 

Would  the  village  never  grow  quiet? 

It  appeared  that  the  youngsters  were  in  an  un- 
usually frolicsome  mood,  as  though  especially  desir- 
ous of  exasperating  him,  while  the  braves  sat  around 
the  various  fires,  smoking  and  recounting  past  valor- 
ous deeds,  as  if  sleep  had  no  charms  for  them. 

Cuthbert  grew  uneasy. 

In  another  hour  or  so  the  moon  would  be  peep- 
ing up,  and  he  knew  his  difficulties  in  quitting  the 
village  must  be  doubled  under  such  circumstances. 

Jealously  he  watched  them  disappear,  one  by  one, 
until  finally  only  a  few  remained  to  fix  the  fires  for 
the  night,  when  the  encampment  would  be  left  to 
the  hosts  of  canines  that  roamed  about,  snarling 
at  each  other  and  occasionally  using  their  sharp 
teeth  to  advantage,  as  if  to  prove  their  wolf  blood. 

It  was  time. 

Cuthbert's  heart  beat  somewhat  faster  than  usual 
as  he  arose  to  his  feet,  sauntered  over  to  a  spot 
where  the  shadows  lay  heavily,  and  then  threw  him- 
self again  on  the  ground,  as  if  to  sleep,  though  his 
watchful  eyes  were  fully  alive  to  all  that  was  going 
on  around. 

There  was  nothing  to  indicate  that  he  had  been 
observed,  and  presently  he  made  another  move,  this 
time  slinking  out  of  the  village  on  the  side  where 
the  corral  was  located. 

The  horse  first,  then  his  traps,  the  gun  and  food, 
for  without  Buckskin  these  things  counted  naught. 


154      Taking  French  Leave. 

Now  he  was  alongside  the  wooden  rails  that 
formed  the  barrier  between  the  herd  and  the  Indian 
ponies  and  freedom. 

A  wild  thought  flashed  into  his  mind  as  to  what 
a  glorious  thing  it  would  prove  for  him  to  cut  off 
pursuit  by  stampeding  the  whole  herd,  but  common 
sense  showed  him  what  a  foolhardy  move  this  would 
be,  and  how  greatly  it  might  jeopardize  the  success- 
ful carrying  out  of  his  main  chance,  so  he  put  away 
the  temptation  as  sternly  as  possible. 

Karl  had  established  a  telegraphic  communica- 
tion with  his  horse,  and,  of  course,  Cuthbert  had 
made  it  a  point  to  practice  the  signals,  under  the 
belief  that  sooner  or  later  they  would  prove  of  value 
to  him. 

That  time  had  come. 

He  knew  that  ordinarily  one  or  more  videttes  kept 
watch  and  ward  over  the  Sioux  village  and  precious 
corral,  while  the  camp  was  wrapped  in  slumber,  and 
from  this  source  his  greatest  danger  proceeded. 

It  was  easy  to  find  the  gate  of  the  stockade. 

All  seemed  quiet — the  horses  were  moving  about 
within,  the  night  breeze  rustled  through  the  trees, 
but  Cuthbert  could  not  detect  any  sign  of  a  vidette 
near  by. 

Creeping  through  the  bars  he  gave  utterance  to 
a  low,  tremulous  whistle. 

Buckskin  would  know  it  instantly  if  he  heard,  and 
his  natural  sagacity  must  bring  him  to  the  spot 
where  Cuthbert  stood. 

There  being  no  immediate  response,  fie  repeated 
the  signal,  this  time  in  a  louder  key,  though  fearful 
lest  it  might  reach  the  ear  of  a  wakeful  vidette. 

Was  that  whinny  Buckskin's  recognition? 

His  heart  seemed  in  his  throat,  so  great  the  anx- 
iety that  nearly  overwhelmed  him. 

Now  he  could  catch  the  sound  of  hoof  strokes  ap- 


Taking  French  Leave.  155 

preaching,  and  gave  forth  the  same  tremulous 
whistle  to  guide  the  animal  to  his  side. 

Another  moment  and  he  was  fondly  stroking 
Buckskin's  velvety  muzzle,  and  feeling  the  intelli- 
gent beast's  welcome. 

No  time  was  to  be  lost. 

A  rope  hackamore  must  do  duty  in  lieu  of  a  bridle, 
a  blanket  for  a  saddle — these  things  Cuthbert  had 
brought  with  him,  in  order  to  meet  the  emergency. 

Then  the  bars  were  let  down. 

Gently  Buckskin  stepped  outside. 

He  seemed  to  recognize  that  some  important  busi- 
ness was  on  foot  which  required  secrecy,  for  by  no 
neigh  or  snort  did  he  betray  the  satisfaction  he  must 
have  felt  at  thus  securing  his  freedom. 

The  bars  replaced,  Cuthbert  started  to  lead  his 
prize  away. 

His  ambition,  of  course,  was  to  reach  the  spot 
where  his  cache  lay,  to  secure  what  stores  he  had 
secreted  and  then  decamp. 

So  many  times  had  he  gone  over  this  line  of  re- 
treat that  every  foot  of  ground  from  the  horse  cor- 
ral to  the  hollow  tree  was  as  familiar  to  him  as 
though  it  were  broad  midday. 

Every  yard  increased  his  chances  of  safety. 

The  smouldering  fires  of  the  village  began  to  be 
obscured  by  the  trees,  showing  that  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  rounding  the  spur  that  jutted  out  toward 
the  woods. 

His  heart  had  been  beating  wildly,  but  now  it 
began  to  resume  its  normal  function,  since  the  worst 
had  passed  by. 

The  village  fires  had  become  like  huge  glow- 
worms in  the  distance,  and  it  seemed  to  Cuthbert's 
sensitive  soul  as  though  his  old  friend,  a  great  owl, 
perched  in  a  tree  near  by,  sentinel  of  the  night,  were 
crooning  a  dismal  and  perpetual  farewell,  as  he  mut- 
tered his  discontented  notes. 


156  Taking  French  Leave. 

It  was  a  period  of  time  fraught  with  intense  solici- 
tude, and  which  he  could  never  forget  so  long  as 
he  lived — these  halcyon  memories  of  his  brief  stay 
among  the  mysterious  red  people  of  the  wilderness 
would  haunt  him  ever. 

And  now  it  was  all  over.  He  was  launched  upon 
his  new  voyage,  which  must  end,  he  fondly  hoped, 
with  his  restoration  to  Sunset  Ranch,  to  Karl  and 
to — Polly — for  surely  the  girl  had  been  often  in  his 
mind  during  these  days  of  his  captivity,  and  Cuth- 
bert  knew  she  had  become  as  dear  to  him  as  a 
sister. 

He  was  determined  that  could  he  gain  her  consent 
and  that  of  her  protectors,  the  genial  Kellys,  she 
would  occupy  that  position — if  he  could  not  find 
Hildegarde  Gordon,  his  cousin,  there  was  no  reason 
why  this  dainty  girl  should  not  occupy  her  place,  and 
share  his  bounty. 

When  finally  he  drew  up  at  the  gnarled  tree  in 
the  hollow  of  which  his  limited  stores  were  secreted, 
he  believed  every  chance  was  within  his  grasp. 

Quickly,  then,  he  proceeded  to  secure  his  little 
all  to  the  back  of  the  horse.  As  it  was  made  up  in 
something  the  shape  of  two  saddlebags,  in  antici- 
pation of  just  such  an  emergency,  this  was  not  a 
difficult  task. 

He  was  just  testing  the  cords  or  thongs  with 
which  this  had  been  carried  into  effect,  when  he 
heard  a  peculiar  grunt  close  beside  him,  and  in  the 
dim  starlight  beheld  a  human  figure  rise  out  of  the 
brush. 

His  first  thought  was  that  the  game  was  up,  or 
at  least  in  a  perilous  position,  since  this  must  be 
one  of  the  Sioux  videttes,  and  if  he  escaped  to  start 
on  his  long  journey,  it  could  only  be  after  a  success- 
ful contest  with  this  muscular  brave,  who  would  en- 
deavor to  hold  him  fast  until  assistance  arrived  from 
the  village. 


Taking  French  Leave.  157 

And  as  he  endeavored  to  get  himself  in  a  posi- 
tion of  defense,  his  trembling  finger  fumbling  with 
the  lock  of  his  gun,  he  heard  his  Sioux  name  pro- 
nounced in  caressing  accents. 

Why,  it  was  the  old  medicine  man  after  all ! 

"White  boy  go  away?"  he  said,  in  a  crooning, 
mournful  key.  "  'Doctor'  he  very  sorry.  Little 
white  brother  go.  Never  see  him  more?" 

"Why,  doctor,  you  here!  You're  not  going  to 
give  the  warning?" 

"Ugh!  Me  no  do  that.  Help  you  instead.  See 
here.  Knife.  No  use,  mebbe?  White  boy  wise. 
Will  know  if  good  to  have.  See!  Cartridges, 
too." 

And  the  old  fellow  produced  a  very  businesslike 
knife  and  a  bag  of  cartridges. 

Warmly  Cuthbert  embraced  the  fantastically- 
dressed  old  humbug — there  was  some  good  in  the 
Sioux  blood  after  all — at  least  Little  Buckshot  and 
this  ancient  wizard  had  risen  above  the  hatred  of 
their  race  for  the  white  man. 

So  Cuthbert,  with  one  last  warm  word  of  farewell, 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  slowly  away  to  the  dim 
southland,  Buckskin  stepping  so  lightly  that  there 
was  no  danger  of  hostile  ears  catching  the  sound 
of  his  hoof  stroke. 

In  long  years  to  come  the  boy,  grown  a  man,  with 
world-wide  experience,  would  always  keep  a  corner 
in  his  heart  green  to  the  memory  of  the  Sioux  med- 
icine man,  whose  weird  costumes  and  fantastic 
dances  must  fill  a  unique  niche  in  his  heart  until  time 
should  be  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

UNDER  THE  WANING  MOON. 

The  task  that  the  young  Virginian  had  set  him- 
self was  no  light  one. 

A  journey  lay  before  him  of  several  days'  duration, 
and  unknown  perils  might  beset  him  on  every  hand. 

There  were  his  late  friends,  the  Sioux,  whom  he 
expected  to  make  a  hasty  and  hot  pursuit. 

Standing  Elk's  affection  he  had  little  faith  in ;  but 
the  white  lad  represented  a  winter's  supply  of  to- 
bacco, ammunition  and  fire  water,  which,  in  the  eyes 
of  an  Indian,  counted  for  much,  so  that  the  old  chief 
might  be  expected  to  strain  every  nerve  in  the  en- 
deavor to  recapture  such  a  prize. 

Then  there  were  wild  beasts  with  which  he  might 
come  in  contact,  or,  worse  still,  some  of  those  des- 
peradoes always  to  be  found  prowling  about  the  out- 
skirts of  civilization,  to  whom  the  newly-discovered 
gold  fields  among  the  Black  Hills  would  serve  as  a 
lodestone,  drawing  them  from  other  less-favored 
communities. 

Still,  Cuthbert's  heart  seemed  stout  enough  to 
meet  and  overcome  all  these  difficulties.  The  suc- 
cess attending  his  start  gave  him  courage. 

Besides,  a  cowboy  always  feels  fortified  against 
evil  and  disaster  so  long  as  he  can  press  his  knees 
against  the  sides  of  a  stanch  and  faithful  broncho; 
so  often  has  he  to  depend  upon  this  four-footed 
friend  for  his  safety  that  there  seems  to  be  magic  in 
the  very  contact. 

Once  a  mile  and  more  from  the  Sioux  village  and 
free  from  timber,  the  runaway  put  his  horse  into  the 
broken  country  that  lay  to  the  south. 

The  moon  had  now  arisen  at  midnight,  a  battered 


Under  the  Waning  Moon.  159 

specimen  at  the  best,  but,  to  the  fleeing  lad,  any  as- 
sistance was  welcome,  and  this  meagre  illumination 
would  allow  him  to  see  obstacles  in  his  way  more 
clearly. 

One  thing  gave  him  cause  for  uneasiness. 

At  the  time  of  his  flight  a  hunting  party  had  been 
absent  from  the  village  of  the  Sioux. 

These  braves,  more  than  a  dozen  in  number,  had 
gone  south  a  week  before,  in  the  hope  of  striking 
one  of  the  few  herds  of  bison  that  remained  of  the 
countless  numbers  that  had,  a  decade  before,  dotted 
the  great  prairie;  or,  failing  in  that,  to  make  way 
with  some  beef  on  the  hoof  that  would  serve  to  keep 
the  village  supplied  with  provisions  during  the  ap- 
proaching winter. 

This  party  was  doubtless  on  the  way  home,  and 
directly  in  the  path  he  would  take  if  he  made  a  bee 
line  for  Sunset  Ranch. 

It  was  policy,  therefore,  to  deviate  from  this 
straight  course,  as  the  crow  flies,  and  make  some- 
thing of  a  detour,  in  the  hope  of  avoiding  these 
braves. 

Of  course,  should  they  chance  upon  him,  the  truth 
must  be  immediately  apparent  to  them,  and  Cuth- 
bert's  hopes  receive  a  decided  setback. 

He  gloried  in  every  mile  placed  between  himself 
and  the  Indian  village. 

Meanwhile,  he  amused  himself  by  speculating  as 
to  when  and  under  what  conditions  his  late  red 
brothers  would  discover  his  flight. 

This  awoke  a  flood  of  recollections. 

He  was  vehement  in  affirming  his  great  joy  at 
leaving  the  scene  of  his  late  captivity;  and  yet, 
strange  to  say,  there  was  a  little  regret  mingled  with 
this  exuberance — some  associations  he  had  formed 
that  would  give  him  pleasure  as  they  arose  in  mem- 
ory. 


160  Under  the  Waning  Moon. 

As  he  journeyed  on,  Cuthbert  found  he  must  meet 
and  fight  another  adversary. 

This  was  the  dragon,  sleep. 

He  had  had  broken  slumbers  of  late  from  various 
causes,  and  nature  began  to  endeavor  to  overwhelm 
him. 

So  he  resorted  to  several  expedients  in  order  to 
successfully  combat  this  insidious  enemy. 

All  the  while  Buckskin  was  making  good  head- 
way, like  the  faithful  old  chap  he  was,  apparently 
realizing  what  game  he  was  concerned  in,  and  eager 
to  gain  an  advantage  over  the  heathen  whom  he  de- 
spised so  cordially. 

Thus  the  night  was  slipping  away. 

Cuthbert  did  not  intend  resting  until  morning 
came,  when  both  himself  and  his  steed  would  de- 
serve refreshment. 

Perhaps  the  eager  Sioux  were  already  on  the 
track,  bent  upon  running  him  to  earth.  No  mat- 
ter, his  course  had  been  mapped  out,  and  he  did  not 
mean  to  be  driven  from  it,  unless  the  necessity  be- 
came very  great. 

The  gray  dawn  came. 

In  the  east  the  sky  showed  signs  of  the  sun's  com- 
ing, and  Cuthbert  knew  he  had  put  leagues  between 
himself  and  the  Sioux  village. 

He  gloried  in  the  coming  of  the  day  god. 

Not  alone  because  he  was  weary  and  hungry,  both 
of  which  were  true  enough,  but,  in  the  small  hours 
of  the  night,  the  temperature  had  grown  exception- 
ally chilly,  especially  to  a  mounted  traveler,  rather 
scantily  clothed,  so  that,  in  spite  of  his  effort  to  im- 
agine himself  fairly  comfortable,  his  chattering  teeth 
and  an  occasional  shudder  of  his  frame  belied  the 
cheat. 

The  sounds  of  the  late  summer  night  died  away; 
long  since  the  howl  of  the  wolf  and  bark  of  the 
sneaking  coyote  had  ceased,  and  now  the  burr  of  the 


Under  the  Waning  Moon.  161 

cricket,  together  with  the  shrill  complaining  of  katy- 
dids in  the  brush,  gave  place  to  silence  deep  and 
profound. 

Thus  the  mighty  king  of  day  wheeled  into  view 
above  the  horizon. 

It  was  well. 

Cuthbert's  anxiety  concerning  the  hunting  party 
had  not  abated. 

The  first  use  he  made  of  daylight  was  to  survey 
the  country  all  around  him. 

He  had  just  reached  that  border  where  the  rough 
foothills  gradually  softened  into  the  rolling  prairie. 

During  the  whole  term  of  his  captivity,  he  had 
not  once  clapped  eyes  on  this  latter,  and  was  sur- 
prised to  find  how  dear  it  had  become  to  him  since 
his  advent  among  the  cowboys,  now  two  seasons 
back. 

It  was  like  welcoming  an  old  friend  again,  and 
seemed  to  speak  in  clarion  tones  of  the  proud  liberty 
he  had  once  enjoyed. 

Why,  it  even  seemed  easier  to  breathe  here  than 
among  those  hills  where  the  lodges  of  Standing  Elk 
kept  guard  beside  the  ever-flowing  Sweetwater. 

When  he  had  dismounted  in  a  depression,  and 
hobbled  Buckskin  so  the  broncho  might  play  no 
tricks  common  to  his  class  upon  him,  Cuthbert 
topped  the  nearest  rise,  and  took  a  good  survey  of 
the  scene  in  every  direction. 

He  rejoiced  to  discover  no  signs  of  danger,  for  his 
weariness  was  such  that  only  urgent  necessity  would 
have  compelled  him  to  go  on. 

Then  came  a  frugal  repast. 

He  had  a  supply  of  water  in  a  canteen,  secured 
through  diplomacy  from  a  young  buck,  who  had 
taken  it  from  one  of  Custer's  unlucky  cavalrymen 
at  the  battle  of  the  Little  Big  Horn. 

The  ride  of  almost  six  consecutive  hours  had  been 
wearisome,  much  more  so  because  of  his  lack  of 


[62          Under  the  Waning  Moon. 

proper  equipments — for  a  white  man  can  never  do 
full  justice  to  himself  on  a  bareback  horse,  when  ac- 
customed to  saddle  and  stirrups. 

Stretching-  himself  at  full  length,  the  cowboy 
munched  his  dried  meat  and  took  copious  draughts 
of  the  cooling-  liquid  contained  in  the  canteen — which 
relic  of  the  dread  disaster  had  at  length  fallen  into 
hands  capable  of  appreciating  its  good  qualities. 

Thus  half  an  hour  passed. 

Cuthbert  felt  refreshed. 

The  fearful  sensation  of  sleepiness  seemed  to  have 
passed  away. 

He  knew  it  would  not  be  wise  to  give  way  to  such 
a  natural  desire,  since,  once  slumber  took  hold  upon 
him,  who  could  say  when  he  would  awaken  again, 
and  then  it  might  only  be  to  look  into  the  grinning 
countenance  of  Standing  Elk. 

Cuthbert  remembered  the  old  story  of  the  race  be- 
tween the  hare  and  the  tortoise — a  nap  had  been  fa- 
tal to  the  chances  of  the  former,  and  he  did  not  want 
the  experience  repeated  in  his  case. 

With  a  groan,  therefore,  he  struggled  to  his  feet, 
and  was  surprised  to  find  that  his  knees  were  quite 
stiff,  the  result  of  digging  them  into  Buckskin's 
sides  for  hours,  in  lieu  of  the  support  which  stirrups 
would  have  given. 

Never  mind;  once  he  gave  his  pursuers  the  slip, 
and  Sunset  Ranch  was  reached,  he  would  have  plenty 
of  opportunities  to  recuperate,  and,  ere  long,  the 
things  that  loomed  up  before  him  now  as  dread  ob- 
stacles would  appear  like  trifles  light  as  air. 

Perhaps,  ere  mounting  Buckskin  again  and  setting 
forth  on  his  journey,  it  might  be  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  once  more  top  the  rise  near  by,  so  as  to  take  a  last 
survey. 

This  was  a  chance  shot,  but  Cuthbert  presently 
discovered  reasons  for  believing  it  to  be  the  best 
thing  he  had  done  in  many  a  day. 


Under  the  Waning  Moon.  163 

For  hardly  had  he  commenced  to  cast  his  eyes 
about  than  he  discovered  something  that  caused  him 
to  fall  flat  on  his  face,  while  his  heart  beat  like  a  trip- 
hammer. 

Not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  a  small 
column  of  light  smoke  arose  from  a  depression  in 
the  prairie,  proving  that  some  campers  must  have 
been  located  there  during  the  night. 

Cuthbert  could  guess  who  they  were. 

As  a  usual  thing,  Indians  manage  to  build  their 
"  -es  without  visible  smoke  when  in  an  enemy's  coun- 
try, but  these  braves  had  grown  reckless,  being  so 
near  home,  and  used  none  of  the  ordinary  precau- 
tions. 

Greatly  worried  by  their  proximity,  Cuthbert  ran 
to  his  horse  and  arranged  things  for  an  immediate 
flight. 

He  could  pass  along  the  depression  for  a  short 
distance,  when  it  gradually  merged  into  the  level,  so 
that  further  progress  without  discovery  was  out  of 
the  question. 

All  he  could  do  now  was  to  wait  and  hope  for 
the  best. 

If  these  campers  proved  to  be  the  hunting  party 
homeward  bound,  as  he  suspected,  they  had  plenty 
of  room  to  make  for  the  hills  without  discovering 
either  him  or  his  horse. 

Indeed,  only  through  some  direct  irony  of  fate 
could  such  an  accident  occur. 

Cuthbert,  having  all  arranged  and  his  horse  staked 
close  at  hand,  once  more  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
little  knoll. 

Immediately  he  saw  that  he  had  hit  the  nail  di- 
rectly on  the  head  when  reaching  the  conclusion  that 
Indians  built  the  fire,  for  they  were  now  in  sight. 

A  start  was  about  to  be  made  on  the  last  stretch, 
with  the  expectation  of  bringing  up  in  the  home  vil- 
lage by  noon. 


164  Under  the  Waning  Moon. 

At  last  they  went  stringing  out  over  the  rolling 
ground,  keeping  to  the  ridges  for  the  best  riding. 

Cuthbert  saw  they  had  bundles  upon  their  pack 
animals;  evidently  the  hunt  had  been  at  least  fairly 
successful,  and  they  were  now  returning,  laden  with 
the  spoils  of  the  chase. 

He  counted  them  as  they  strung  out — a  good 
baker's  dozen  in  all,  sturdy  warriors,  most  of  whom 
had  already  won  renown  in  war  or  along  the  hunting 
trail. 

Every  second  took  the  dangerous  lot  farther 
a  way,  and,  unless  some  unforeseen  accident  betrayed 
his  presence  to  them,  the  chances  seemed  bright  for 
his  escaping  scot  free. 

He  had  been  fearful  when  wretched  Buckskin,  as 
if  scenting  the  presence  of  his  kind  near  by,  had 
given  vent  to  a  shrill  neigh,  for  one  of  the  Indians 
stopped  to  look  around. 

A  second  neigh  would  have  given  the  whole  thing 
away,  but,  fortunately,  Buckskin  had  the  decency  to 
stop  right  there,  and  the  warrior,  as  if  doubting  his 
hearing,  cantered  on  to  catch  up  with  his  fellows. 

Cuthbert  recovered  from  his  fright  and  began  to 
breathe  easy  again. 

It  had  been  a  close  shave,  however,  and  one  he 
would  not  care  to  repeat. 

Long  he  looked  after  the  retreating  figures  of  the 
bronzed  hunters,  whose  feathered  headpieces  nodded 
and  glowed  in  the  bright  light  of  the  early  sun. 

In  the  exuberance  of  his  delight,  half  raising  him- 
self from  the  grass,  he  sent  mocking  kisses  after 
them  with  his  finger  tips,  at  the  same  time  mutter- 
ing, joyfully: 

"Good-day  to  you,  Mr.  Crow  Quill  Moccasin,  and 
you,  also,  Gray  Wolf  and  Stick-in-His-Hand.  A 
pleasant  journey  to  your  lodges,  and  give  my  re- 
gards to  the  dear  old  medicine  man  humbug,  ditto 
poor,  bereft  Standing  Elk,  a  second  time  childless, 


Under  the  Waning  Moon.          165 

and  not  forgetting  that  prince  of  rogues,  Caleb 
Cross,  whom  Satan  help  if  he  ever  comes  back  to 
Sunset  Ranch  and  the  boys'  clutches.  Why,  hello !" 

This  second  exclamation  was  uttered  in  a  tone  of 
voice  quite  different  from  that  in  which  he  spoke  the 
rest  of  his  soliloquy. 

It  indicated  surprise — a  sudden  apprehension. 

For  the  whole  hunting  party  had  come  to  an  ab- 
rupt halt  about  a  mile  away. 

The  first  thought  that  entered  Cuthbert's  head 
was  that  they  were  debating  as  to  the  choice  of 
routes,  one  being  shorter,  but  more  difficult,  than  the 
other. 

Then  he  realized  it  must  be  something  of  an  en- 
tirely different  nature,  since  several  of  the  Sioux  had 
vaulted  from  their  ponies,  and  seemed  to  be  search- 
ing for  some  lost  article  amid  the  short  grass. 

Even  as  yet  Cuthbert  only  growled  at  the  delay 
as  serving  to  keep  him  there,  when  he  so  ardently 
desired  to  push  on. 

What  could  they  have  lost  that  was  of  so  precious 
a  nature  as  to  cause  the  whole  troop  such  a  period  of 
delay  ? 

For  the  life  of  him,  he  could  not  guess. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  last  scare  he  might  have ;  after 
this  clear  sailing  awaited  him. 

Ah !  what  did  that  fellow  mean  by  pointing  straight 
in  his  direction? 

Sure  enough,  it  was  the  identical  sharp-eared  chap 
who  had  looked  so  suspiciously  in  his  quarter  at  the 
time  Buckskin  relieved  himself  of  that  treacherous 
neigh. 

Then  it  all  burst  like  a  thunderbolt  from  a  clear 
sky  upon  Cuthbert. 

They  had,  by  a  disgusting  piece  of  ill  luck,  chanced 
upon  his  trail — he  remembered  he  had  skimmed 
along  that  ridge  ere  making  for  the  depression 
where  he  took  his  rest. 


1 66          Under  the  Waning  Moon. 

Indians  are  ever  suspicious,  and  can  read  signs  in 
a  manner  little  short  of  miraculous. 

Perhaps  there  may  have  been  some  peculiarity 
about  the  buckskin  broncho's  hoofs  that  was  known 
to  one  among  their  number. 

At  any  rate,  suspicion  was  rampant,  and  it  began 
to  look  as  though  the  fugitive  from  Standing  Elk's 
lodge  might  be  compelled  to  mount  Buckskin  and 
show  a  clean  pair  of  heels  to  his  pursuers. 

Mechanically,  then,  Cuthbert  twisted  his  head  and 
looked  around  to  see  in  how  many  jumps  he  could 
clear  the  intervening  space,  should  the  necessity 
arrive  for  such  action. 

When  he  turned  his  head  again,  he  found  that  al- 
ready a  change  had  taken  place  among  the  Sioux 
braves. 

Three  of  them — one  of  whom  was  the  suspicious 
party — had  debouched  from  the  rest  and  were  urg- 
ing their  ponies  straight  for  the  spot  where  the 
white  lad  lay,  while  the  balance  threw  a  leg  across 
their  mounts  and  curiously  awaited  the  result. 

Well,  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do — fight  or  run 
away. 

Cuthbert  was  no  Don  Quixote,  and  had  not  the 
remotest  idea  of  attempting  to  cope  with  a  baker's 
dozen  of  experienced  braves. 

Why,  they  would  overwhelm  him  without  much 
ado,  despite  the  repeating  gun  he  carried,  using 
their  running  ponies  as  shelter  while  they  circled 
closer  and  closer  around,  after  the  usual  manner  of 
their  wary  species. 

Then  it  was  flight. 

And  the  sooner  he  was  off  the  better,  since  these 
fellows  were  quickly  shortening  the  distance  sepa- 
rating them. 

He  got  over  to  where  Buckskin  stood  in  "two 
shakes  of  a  sheep's  tail,"  as  he  afterward  declared, 
in  relating  the  adventure. 


Under  the  Waning  Moon.  167 

One  pull  at  the  rope  left  the  horse  as  free  as  air. 

Then  came  a  leap  such  as  only  a  cowboy  can  give, 
and  he  was  astride  the  broncho. 

"Away,  old  fellow,  and  do  your  prettiest  if  you 
ever  hope  to  see  Karl  again,"  he  said. 

Buckskin  started. 

The  rest  had  renewed  his  zeal,  and  he  seemed  to 
be  as  fresh  as  a  daisy  just  plucked. 

Cuthbert,  with  the  intention  of  delaying  the  final 
discovery  as  long  as  possible,  kept  to  the  depression ; 
instinctively  he  also  flattened  himself  out  over  the 
horse's  neck  in  order  to  baffle  the  advancing  red- 
skins, who  might,  for  a  time,  think  he  was  an  old 
prairie  ranger,  or,  perhaps,  a  warrior  of  some  other 
tribe. 

When  a  resonant  shout  burst  out  in  his  rear,  taken 
up  by  the  rest  of  the  band,  he  knew  his  presence  was 
no  longer  a  mystery,  and  that  in  all  probability  the 
whole  outfit  was  in  hot  chase. 

"Now,  go  it,  old  Buckskin,  and  don't  ever  have  it 
said  an  Indian  pony  bested  you  on  your  native  heath. 
He'll  wear  who  wins,"  said  the  boy,  as  he  dug  both 
heels  into  the  broncho's  ribs. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
BRAVO!    BUCKSKIN. 

Cuthbert  could  not  refrain  from  turning  in  his  seat 
and  taking  one  backward  look. 

The  sight  that  met  his  eyes  was  stirring  enough 
in  all  conscience ;  there  were  the  Indians  strung  out 
in  a  series  of  little  knots,  each  brave  occupying  a 
position  in  accordance  with  the  ability  of  his  cayuse, 
and  belaboring  the  ponies  with  heels  and  fists  in  the 
endeavor  to  force  them  to  greater  exertions. 

Of  course,  the  fleeing  lad  did  not  believe  his  life 
was  in  peril,  since  these  warriors,  knowing  the  value 
put  upon  him  by  the  big  chief  would  deem  it  their 
duty  to  carry  him  in  triumph  back  to  the  village. 

All  the  same,  the  situation  was  exciting,  and 
aroused  anew  in  Cuthbert's  heart  that  desire  for  free- 
dom he  had  nourished  secretly  from  the  day  he 
found  himself  a  prisoner. 

He  had  great  hopes  in  Buckskin ;  the  faithful  nag 
had  never  yet  failed  Karl,  and  there  was  good  reason 
to  believe  he  would  exert  himself  quite  as  heartily  in 
the  favor  of  his  master's  mate. 

To  be  sure,  he  was  weary  from  an  all-night  gallop, 
but,  while  the  Indian  ponies  were  fresh,  they  carried 
loads  of  meat  that,  in  addition  to  their  riders,  served 
to  counteract  this  apparent  advantage. 

The  question,  then,  was  an  open  one. 

When  Cuthbert  found  he  was  holding  his  own 
fairly  well,  his  spirits  became  more  buoyant. 

There  was,  after  all,  a  wild  exhilaration  in  this  mad 
ride,  a  something  that  made  his  whole  frame  tingle 
as  if  in  contact  with  a  galvanic  battery — the  cool 
morning  air,  the  scented  breeze  blowing  to  his  nos- 
trils, the  well-remembered  odors  of  his  beloved 


Bravo!  Buckskin.  169 

prairie,  the  familiar  scene,  and,  above  all,  the  con- 
sciousness that  with  every  jump  of  his  horse  he  was 
shortening  the  distance  between  himself  and  Sunset 
Ranch — the  goal  of  his  hopes.  All  these  things 
combined  to  arouse  his  spirits  until  he  found  himself 
with  hand  in  the  air,  shouting  a  defiance  to  those 
eager  pursuers  thundering  in  his  rear. 

It  was  the  answer  of  the  undismayed  white  man 
to  the  challenge  of  the  untutored  Mr.  Lo. 

The  buckskin  horse  was  doing  nobly,  and  even  the 
best  of  his  pursuers  did  not  seem  to  gain  percepti- 
bly, so  that  it  was,  after  all,  pretty  much  a  question 
of  endurance. 

Had  the  Sioux  hunters  thought  it  worth  while  to 
toss  aside  the  plunder  with  which  their  ponies  were 
fairly  well  laden,  they  might  have  made  better 
progress. 

Doubtless  they  had  experienced  too  many  vicissi- 
tudes of  fortune  in  securing  this  generous  supply  of 
meat  to  dream  of  sacrificing  it  for  a  miserable  pale- 
face cow  puncher,  who  had  in  some  mysterious  man- 
ner gained  the  good  will  of  their  old  chief. 

As  he  hustled  along  in  this  fashion,  Cuthbert  kept 
a  keen  lookout  ahead. 

There  was  always  a  chance  of  his  falling  in  with 
some  freighter  caravan,  bound  for  the  new  mines. 

How  welcome  a  sight  to  him  would  be  the  familiar 
string  of  creaking  white-topped  wagons,  drawn  by 
mules,  and  the  rough  "mule  skinner"  on  the  seat, 
cracking  his  long,  writhing  blacksnake  whip;  for, 
among  these  pioneers  of  the  Black  Hills  trail,  he 
would  assuredly  find  shelter  and  safety. 

Alas!  look  as  he  might  whenever  an  opportunity 
presented  itself,  he  could  not  catch  even  the  faintest 
glimpse  of  such  a  welcome  sight. 

One  thing  pleased  him. 

His  pursuers  were  gradually  dropping  out  of  the 
race  as  their  ponies  fell  behind. 


170  Bravo!  Buckskin. 

Only  seven  kept  it  up,  and  they  seemed  to  be  de- 
termined that  nothing  should  daunt  them. 

Higher  rose  the  sun. 

The  chill  of  early  morning  no  longer  remained; 
indeed,  Buckskin  was  bathed  in  sweat,  such  was  the 
violence  of  his  exertions. 

He  was  a  game  little  Tartar,  well  worthy  of  any 
man's  regard,  and  Cuthbert,  overwhelmed  with  ad- 
miration for  his  staying  qualities,  could  only  express 
his  feelings  by  patting  his  outstretched  neck  and 
crying  in  boyish  enthusiasm  : 

"Bully,  bully  all  around!" 

That  meant  volumes,  according  to  a  boy's  lingo. 

Now  he  began  to  speculate  seriously  as  to  what 
chances  he  would  have  should  the  affair  terminate, 
as  seemed  possible,  in  a  battle. 

Seven  was  not  so  bad  as  thirteen,  but  all  the  same 
he  feared  his  case  was  pretty  desperate  when  it  came 
to  such  a  pass. 

The  repeating  gun  was  a  Gibraltar  of  strength 
under  ordinary  conditions,  and  with  open  foes  to 
contend  against;  but  Cuthbert  had  not  lived  all  this 
time  among  the  Sioux  without  observing  how  catlike 
their  advance  upon  expected  quarry  might  be,  and 
he  despaired  of  successfully  holding  such  agile  foes 
at  bay. 

One  he  might  have  outwitted,  and  even  two  in  a 
pinch ;  but  the  thought  of  seven  was  appalling. 

Still  he  did  not  yet  lose  heart. 

The  yellow  horse  was  putting  in  his  best  strides, 
and,  so  long  as  he  could  keep  up  this  hot  pace,  the 
game  was  anybody's. 

More  than  a  few  times  the  course  was  changed  on 
account  of  some  advantage  Cuthbert  thought  might 
be  gained  by  a  sudden  turn;  or  it  was  the  warning 
gopher  whistle  that  told  him  to  beware  of  the  bur- 
row city  into  which  his  animal  might  flounder  unless 
guided  elsewhere. 


Bravo!  Buckskin.  171 

Over  the  wild  barley,  leaping  the  tufted  patches  of 
buffalo  grass,  through  the  rattlesnake  weed  that 
rustled  with  the  approach  of  autumn's  chill  breath— 
always  onward  with  those  yeJling  rascals  in  full 
chase,  Buckskin  kept  up  the  mad  pace. 

Ah !  the  yellow  nag  did  himself  proud  on  that  day, 
and  Cuthbert  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the  time 
when  he  and  Karl  were  carried  to  safety  and  the 
cooling  waters  of  the  river,  with  the  prairie  fire 
raging  at  their  backs. 

As  never  before  he  realized  what  a  blessed  thing  it 
was  to  bestride  a  horse  of  kingly  blood,  capable  of 
making  such  extraordinary  exertions  when  the  oc- 
casion demanded. 

The  excitement  was  still  in  his  veins. 

Even  putting  aside  the  miserable  fate  that  awaited 
him  if  overhauled  and  taken  back  to  the  Indian  vil- 
lage a  dejected  prisoner,  Cuthbert  burned  to  come 
out  victor  in  the  race  on  its  own  merits. 

He  had  not  forgotten  the  sensation  of  pride  and 
glory  that  swept  over  him  when  his  chum,  on  this 
same  little  horse,  won  from  the  boasting  Sioux 
braves  on  the  former  occasion,  and  Cuthbert  yearned 
to  have  victory  placed  to  his  own  credit. 

The  old  pride  of  Virginia,  mother  of  Presidents, 
not  to  be  outdone,  was  showing  itself. 

How  indefatigable  those  grim  pursuers  seemed 
to  be. 

Never  before  had  Cuthbert  realized  how  men 
could  partake  of  the  nature  of  the  wolves  they 
chased  over  the  prairie ;  these  warriors  had  won  their 
spurs — their  right  to  wear  the  feathers  of  braves — by 
just  such  tactics  as  these,  and  he  could  not  hope  to 
throw  them  off  the  scent,  except  by  superior  run- 
ning. 

Alas !  his  weary  horse  was  taken  at  a  decided  dis- 
advantage, and  had  already  reached  his  limit. 

Presently  his  furious  pace  must  slacken  as  his 


172  Bravo!  Buckskin. 

proud  will  failed  to  enthuse  his  muscles,  and  then, 
yard  by  yard,  those  dusky  pursuers  would  shorten 
the  gap. 

What  then? 

Cuthbert  was  but  a  boy;  had  it  been  Old  Sile 
with  that  wonderful  repeating  rifle,  the  Sioux  hunt- 
in?  party  might  have  gone  back  to  their  lodges  in 
mourning,  but  the  young  Virginian  had  never  mas- 
tered the  art  of  successfully  shooting  from  the  back 
of  a  galloping  horse,  especially  when  the  quarry  was 
in  the  rear. 

He  made  one  attempt,  hoping  to  at  least  demor- 
alize the  enemy ;  but,  to  his  disgust,  each  and  every 
man  threw  himself  flat  along  his  pony's  back,  and 
derisive  yells  greeted  his  random  shot. 

About  this  time  the  boy  began  to  notice,  to  his 
dismay,  that  poor  Buckskin  was  failing  to  hold  his 
own. 

It  was  no  sudden  spurt  on  the  part  of  those  hard 
riders  who  whooped  along  in  his  rear,  but  a  falling 
off  in  his  own  animal's  speed. 

Well,  the  crisis  must  soon  come. 

How  would  he  meet  it? 

He  had  been  so  occupied  by  this  dilemma  and  the 
endeavor  to  make  some  use  of  his  gun  that  of  late 
he  failed  to  search  for  traces  of  others  upon  the 
swelling  prairie. 

It  was,  therefore,  something  in  the  nature  of  a 
shock  when  to  his  ears  was  borne  a  faint,  shouting 
chorus. 

How  well  he  knew  the  cry!  What  familiar 
scenes  it  aroused  in  his  mind. 

Eagerly  he  looked  to  windward,  for  the  cheering 
sound  undoubtedly  came  from  that  quarter. 

At  first  nothing  met  his  eye  but  the  vast  expanse, 
bounded  by  the  horizon. 

Then  up  from  a  depression  came  moving  objects. 
They  were  cowboys,  waving  hats  and  guns,  and 


Bravo!  Buckskin.  173 

urging  their  worn  cayuses  to  the  top  of  their  speed, 
eager  to  have  a  hand  in  the  disturbance. 

A  wild  joy  thrilled  Cuthbert. 

He  knew  he  was  saved. 

Even  old  Buckskin  let  out  the  last  kink  and 
bravely  held  his  own  temporarily — another  five  miles 
must  have  killed  the  lion-hearted  little  beast. 

But  there  was  no  need. 

The  Indians,  wild  with  disappointment  at  losing 
in  the  hour  of  their  seeming  triumph,  made  a  last 
desperate  effort  to  overtake  the  plucky  lad. 

It  was  in  vain. 

Buckskin  was  too  game  a  nag  to  lose  the  race 
on  the  homestretch ;  he  would  have  broken  his  heart 
sooner  than  allow  that. 

Realizing  the  hopelessness  of  their  cause,  and  hav- 
ing a  healthy  respect  for  the  fighting  qualities  of  the 
cow  punchers,  they  determined  to  quit  the  chase 
while  there  was  yet  time. 

In  their  sullen  rage  they  forgot  that  old  Standing 
Elk  desired  the  boy  unharmed,  and  let  fly  a  scatter- 
ing volley  of  missiles  from  the  various  firearms  in 
their  possession. 

Cuthbert,  however,  was  uninjured. 

He  had  been  quick  to  profit  by  the  lesson  they 
taught  when  he  sought  to  get  in  a  shot,  and  no 
sooner  did  the  first  report  strike  his  ears  than  he 
threw  himself  forward  and  hugged  the  flowing  mane 
of  Buckskin. 

Again  he  experienced  that  creepy  sensation  as  he 
heard  the  queer  sounds  produced  by  the  leaden  pel- 
lets cutting  the  air  above  him,  and  realized  that  they 
were  meant  for  his  body. 

When  the  rattling  fusillade  ended,  and  he  dared 
look  back,  he  saw  to  his  satisfaction  that  the  bold 
Indian  braves  had  turned  tail  and  were  in  full  re- 
treat. 

It  was  a  glorious  sight,  and  Cuthbert  brought  the 


174  Bravo!  Buckskin. 

exhausted  Buckskin  to  a  speedy  halt,  after  which 
he  sprang  to  the  ground. 

His  first  emotion  was  gratitude  toward  the  faith- 
ful creature  that,  laboring  under  such  serious  dis- 
advantages, had  brought  him  through  "right  side  up 
with  care,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and  hence  it  could  be 
accounted  no  shame  to  his  young  manhood  that  in 
the  exuberance  of  his  feelings  he  threw  his  arms' 
about  the  head  of  his  horse  and  fairly  hugged  him. 

To  his  surprise,  Buckskin  broke  loose,  and,  raising 
his  head,  uttered  a  shrill  whinny. 

It  was  answered  by  a  cheery  yell  and  a  rapid  rush 
of  hoofs. 

Cuthbert  looked  up,  guessing  what  it  meant. 

A  flying  figure  approached,  showing  all  the  signs 
of  insanity,  a  figure  that  waved  a  pair  of  arms  and  a 
sombrero  amid  joyful  shouts. 

Of  course,  it  was  dear  old  Karl. 

What  a  blessed  meeting. 

Cuthbert's  heart  was  full  to  overflowing. 

Really,  it  were  almost  worth  those  weeks  of  cap- 
tivity and  the  perils  he  had  encountered  to  realize 
how  much  he  was  beloved. 

Down  came  Karl  with  a  jump,  and,  regardless  of 
everything,  he  clasped  his  friend  in  a  pair  of  sturdy 
arms,  holding  him  back  anon  to  gaze  into  his  face  as 
though  hardly  able  to  believe  such  good  luck. 

Then  the  other  cowboys  rode  up,  having  made  a 
feint  of  chasing  the  Indians,  which  the  worn-out  con- 
dition of  their  mounts  precluded  them  from  doing 
with  any  show  of  success. 

Cuthbert  was  proud  of  the  warm  greeting  he  re- 
ceived; what  a  sincere  pleasure  it  was  to  feel  that, 
during  the  year  he  had  been  among  them,  he  had 
earned  the  good  will  of  these  rough,  whole-hearted 
rustlers ! 

"Now,  Cuthbert,"  began  Karl,  "I'm  dying  to  hear 


Bravo!  Buckskin.  175 

all  about  it.  You've  got  a  rare  story,  I  bet.  So  jest 
sit  right  down  and  let's  hear  it." 

"Oh,  it's  too  long,  by  a  good  deal,"  said  Cuth- 
bert,  laughing.  "Suppose  we  put  it  off  till  we  get 
home." 

"No,  sirree ;  I  can't  wait  above  another  minute  for 
you  to  begin." 

"Well,  Karl,  I  must  have  something  to  eat  first, 
or  I'll  starve." 

"That's  up  to  me,"  broke  in  one  of  the  cowboys ; 
"I've  got  the  meat.  Let's  go  into  camp." 

"All  right,"  assented  Karl.  "Cuthbert  eats  first; 
then  the  story." 

Horses  were  picketed,  a  fire  started,  and  the  cow- 
boy who  had  just  spoken  produced  a  package  of  fresh 
meat  that  his  keen  eye  had  seen  fall  from  the  back 
of  the  rearmost  Indian  pony  at  the  time  they  made 
out  to  chase  the  Sioux  hunters. 

Although  the  braves  had  declined  to  cut  loose 
from  their  plunder  in  order  to  lighten  the  loads  of 
their  ponies  when  chasing  the  fleeing  white  boy,  it 
was  a  different  thing  when  they  themselves  were  be- 
ing pursued  by  the  reckless  cow  punchers. 

So  this  rearmost  fellow,  in  alarm  lest  he  be  cut  out 
for  the  first  victim  of  those  hot  fighters,  had  relieved 
his  pony  of  its  load,  evidently  acting  on  the  belief 
that  it  was  better  to  enter  the  village  covered  with 
shame  than  cling  to  his  booty  and  never  enter  it  at 
all. 

For  which  philosophical  solving  of  the  conundrum 
Cuthbert  was  grateful  when  the  meat  began  to  send 
forth  appetizing  odors. 

With  true  prairie  etiquette  they  forbore  to  ques- 
tion him  as  to  his  strange  adventures  until  he  had 
helped  himself  three  times  to  meat. 

Then,  since  the  demands  of  nature  had  been  ap- 
peased, they  began  to  bombard  him  right  and  left 
with  questions. 


1 76  Bravo!  Buckskin. 

Laughing  at  his  inability  to  answer  such  a  con- 
glomeration, Cuthbert  proposed  that  he  tell  the 
whole  story,  and  to  this  they  one  and  all  eagerly 
agreed. 

No  Persian  romancist  ever  had  a  more  entranced 
audience  than  surrounded  the  boy  who  had  twelve 
hours  before  been  an  almost  hopeless  prisoner  in 
the  Sioux  camp. 

He  neglected  no  details,  but  described  all  he  saw 
and  had  experienced  from  the  hour  when  the  mid- 
night raid  was  made  upon  the  wranglers  and  their 
saddle  band  charges,  up  to  the  time  the  hunting 
party  gave  chase. 

Generally  speaking,  the  cowboys  listened  in  si- 
lence, only  an  occasional  grunt  or  exclamation  at- 
testing their  interest  in  the  tale. 

When,  however,  he  spoke  of  Caleb  Cross  and  the 
miserable  alliance  he  had  made  with  Standing  Elk, 
in  order  to  secure  a  fat  ransom  for  the  prisoner,  their 
indignation  manifested  itself  in  a  more  violent  form. 

Evidently  the  treacherous  schemer  would  have  to 
steer  clear  of  the  range  after  this,  and  emigrate  to 
Mexico,  if  he  wished  to  avoid  summary  treatment  at 
the  hands  of  those  whom  he  had  once  called  com- 
rades. 

Cuthbert  himself  was  so  overflowing  with  a  great 
joy  at  seeing  Karl  again  that  he  could  not  for  the 
life  of  him  harbor  ill  feelings  against  even  so  dis- 
reputable a  foe  as  this  scheming  cow  puncher. 

Perhaps  he  was  not  yet  done  with  Caleb  Cross, 
since  such  men  fight  hard  to  carry  a  point  that  prom- 
ises rich  rewards. 

On  his  part,  Cuthbert  was  to  learn  what  brought 
his  friends  to  this  section  of  the  country,  so  far  away 
from  Sunset  Ranch. 

A  pleasant  surprise  awaited  him. 

The  cowboys  had  really  been  on  the  way  to  the 


Bravo!  Buckskin.  177 

Sioux  village  on  the  Sweetwater  with  the  intention 
of  effecting  his  escape  through  bold  strategy. 

It  all  came  about  through  Little  Buckshot. 

Vain  had  been  their  search  for  the  lost  saddle 
horses,  and  the  lad  who  was  missing.  Karl  had 
scoured  the  country  in  every  direction  day  after  day 
without  discovering  the  first  trace  of  the  aggressors, 
the  rain  having  blotted  out  their  trail. 

Then  came  the  young  Indian  brave,  who,  finding 
his  white  brothers  in  deep  sorrow,  volunteered  to 
discover  where  Cuthbert  had  been  hidden. 

He  knew  the  country  to  the  north,  and  had  his 
suspicions  of  the  truth. 

Overcoming  the  many  obstacles  by  the  way  and 
traveling  only  at  night  to  avoid  the  chances  of  dis- 
covery, he  had,  after  weeks  of  absence,  returned  with 
great  news  that  aroused  the  whole  Sunset  Ranch 
outfit,  and  quickly  started  a  goodly  bunch  of  cattle 
hustlers  on  the  road  north. 

They  had  adopted  his  tactics,  and,  after  a  night 
ride,  were  about  to  camp  in  a  coulee  when  the  sound 
of  whoops  and  yells  directed  their  attention  toward 
the  west,  where  the  chase  was  in  full  progress. 

The  young  Indian  had  gone  ahead  and  was  to 
meet  them  on  the  following  night  at  a  rendezvous 
appointed. 

So  it  seemed  that,  after  all,  Cuthbert's  case  had 
not  been  quite  as  hopeless  as  it  appeared,  for  had  he 
remained  among  the  lodges  of  the  Sioux  village, 
these  good  friends  would  have  shortly  dropped  in 
upon  the  scene,  and  brought  their  boldness  and 
cunning  into  play  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  ef- 
fecting a  rescue. 

Still,  after  all,  he  was  well  satisfied. 

It  was  something  to  be  proud  of,  a  feather  in  his 
cap,  to  have  outwitted  his  red  jailers  unaided,  and 
not  only  to  have  effected  his  escape,  but,  at  the  same 


178  Bravo!  Buckskin. 

time,  bring  away  the  spoils  of  war,  in  the  shape  of 
his  good  rifle  and  Karl's  beloved  cayuse. 

From  that  hour  no  cowboy  would  dare  again  to 
look  down  upon  Cuthbert,  or  believe  that  he  de- 
served the  name  of  tenderfoot ;  he  had  cut  loose  from 
his  past  and  carved  his  name  in  imperishable  letters 
upon  the  column  of  fame,  according  to  a  prairie 
boy's  idea. 

To  pick  up  Little  Buckshot  and  then  turn  their 
horses'  heads  toward  home  was  the  thing  that  now 
occupied  their  attention. 

It  was  high  noon  when  they  leisurely  galloped  up 
to  the  bunch  of  timber  in  which  a  delightful  spring 
gushed  forth. 

Here  the  dusky  child  of  the  prairie  awaited  them, 
and  how  his  coal-black  eyes  glittered  when  he  dis- 
covered Cuthbert,  whom  he  had  last  watched  a  cap- 
tive in  the  closely-guarded  Sioux  camp,  among  them. 

Nor  did  the  Virginian  neglect  to  shower  his 
thanks  upon  Little  Buckshot  for  all  he  had  done; 
he  promised  himself  that  the  young  brave  should 
have  a  duplicate  of  his  repeating  rifle  as  soon  as 
money  could  procure  the  same,  and,  by  this  sub- 
stantial token,  the  Indian  would  understand  that  his 
zealous  efforts  in  behalf  of  the  white  prisoner  had 
been  appreciated. 

They  concluded  to  rest  the  horses,  and  not  make 
a  start  for  home  until  the  following  morning. 

Cowboys  enjoy  a  chance  to  recuperate;  theirs  is 
such  a  busy,  bustling  existence,  so  full  of  unex- 
pected calls  upon  their  energy,  that  a  lull  in  the 
storm  is  always  appreciated. 

So  they  lay  "around  in  soft  places,  and  napped, 
while  the  horses  cropped  the  still  sweet  herbage  or 
recuperated  after  their  long  run. 

Cuthbert,  almost  dead  for  sleep,  soon  found  balm 
in  Gilead,  and  knew  nothing  for  hours. 


Bravo!  Buckskin.  179 

When  he  awoke,  the  sun  was  not  more  than  an 
hour  above  the  horizon. 

His  comrades  still  lay  around — some  smoking, 
others  playing  cards,  always  a  favorite  method  of 
killing  time  among  cowboys. 

Cuthbert  felt  refreshed,  though  still  a  little  sore 
from  his  hard  ride. 

While  he  lay  there,  after  the  manner  of  one  who 
quite  enjoys  a  soft  berth,  he  saw  Karl  drop  into 
camp,  glance  around  and  then  pick  up  the  rifle. 

"What  now?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

"Antelope;  come  along  and  knock  one  down. 
We  need  meat  for  supper,"  came  Karl's  low  answer. 

A  second  invitation  was  not  necessary. 

Surely,  all  the  sporting  blood  of  the  Lees  ran  in 
the  veins  of  young  Cuthbert,  for  the  prospect  of  a 
hunt  always  electrified  him — no  hardships  could 
daunt  him  when  a  chance  to  bag  big  game  offered 
itself. 

Together  the  two  boys  quitted  the  camp. 

If  their  actions  were  noticed  at  all,  the  cowboys 
took  it  for  granted  they  knew  their  business,  and 
had  some  object  in  view  looking  to  the  general  wel- 
fare. 

So  no  one  volunteered  to  accompany  them. 

The  mote  of  timber  was  really  larger  than  Cuth- 
bert had  imagined,  for  it  took  them  all  of  five  min- 
utes to  cut  through  its  depth. 

Once  at  the  further  side,  the  antelopes  were  dis- 
covered out  on  the  open. 

They  were  really  beyond  certain  gunshot,  and,  in 
order  to  accomplish  the  result  desired,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  shorten  the  distance. 

Two  ways  offered — to  creep  closer  themselves,  or 
draw  the  feeding  animals  in. 

Karl  decided  to  adopt  both  plans. 

The  long  grass  offered  them  hiding  up  to  a  cer- 
tain clump  of  sage  brush,  beyond  which  no  shelter 


180  Bravo!  Buckskin. 

could  be  discovered,  so  that  they  must  needs  have 
recourse  to  a  very  ancient  trick,  and  prey  upon  the 
little  animals'  bump  of  curiosity  in  order  to  secure 
fresh  meat. 

Luckily  the  wind  bore  almost  due  from  the  feed- 
ing antelope,  and  was  considered  favorable. 

To  creep  through  long  prairie  grass  so  as  not  to 
wave  its  plume  and  alarm  so  easily  startled  an  animal 
as  an  antelope,  requires  considerable  practice,  but 
our  boys  were  all  right,  and  they  made  a  success  of 
their  advance. 

When  finally  both  were  snugly  enconsced  within 
the  clump  of  sage,  the  antelope  still  continued  to 
feed,  and  had  not  taken  the  alarm. 

One  of  them — a  buck,  and,  apparently  the  boss 
shepherd  of  the  herd — whistled  once  or  twice  and 
stamped  his  hoofs  as  though  distrustful  that  all  was 
not  as  lovely  as  it  seemed,  though  evidently  he  did 
not  himself  know  from  what  quarter  peril  might  be 
expected. 

Karl  was  now  ready  to  open  the  second  act  in  the 
little  border  drama;  he  meant  that  the  mountain 
should  come  to  Mahomet — the  game  to  the  hunter. 

Partly  for  this  purpose  he  always  made  it  a  point 
to  carry  a  blood-red  bandana  handkerchief  of  gen- 
erous proportions. 

This  he  now  took  out  and  knotted  to  the  end  of 
a  stick  which  had  been  snatched  from  their  path,  es- 
pecially for  this  purpose,  as  they  came  along. 

"Watch  me  round  'em  up,"  he  whispered,  as  he 
began  waving  the  red  banner  slowly. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  GRAY-COATED  PIRATE. 

A  sudden  shrill  whistle  of  alarm  from  the  watchful 
buck  announced  that  the  flag  had  been  instantly  dis- 
covered. 

Although  hidden  themselves  by  the  screen  of  sage- 
brush, the  two  boys  could  plainly  see  what  occurred 
upon  the  open. 

The  antelope  had  started  off  in  hot  haste,  and  a 
greenhorn  might  have  exposed  himself,  believing  the 
game  assuredly  up. 

Karl  only  fluttered  the  red  signal  more  violently, 
knowing  what  the  chances  were. 

Sure  enough,  the  timid  animals  soon  came  to  a 
stop,  and,  turning,  surveyed  the  strange  thing  with 
undisguised  wonder. 

Then  that  fatal  element  of  curiosity  got  the  better 
of  their  alarm,  for,  by  little  fits  and  starts,  they  once 
more  began  to  retrace  the  ground  over  which  they 
had  so  recently  fled. 

Cuthbert  was  aware  of  a  peculiar  sensation  that 
passed  over  his  frame  when  he  surveyed  their  trem- 
bling limbs  and  startled  appearance. 

He  felt  as  guilty  as  though  he  had  by  some  occult 
power  hypnotized  the  beautiful  creatures. 

Surely  the  old  Sioux  medicine  man  was  not  in  it 
with  this  species  of  witchcraft. 

As  usual,  the  practical  overcame  the  sentimental; 
they  needed  fresh  meat,  and  a  cowboy  has  no  busi- 
ness giving  way  to  such  feelings,  at  any  rate. 

So  he  crushed  them  down,  and  prepared  to  do 
slaughter;  the  old  spirit  of  a  hunter,  handed  down 
from  remote  ancestors  who  had  to  live  by  the  chase, 
was  rampant. 


1 82  The  Gray-Coated  Pirate. 

Nearer  still.  Each  little  run  brought  them  so 
many  yards  closer  to  the  fatal  flag  that  Karl  now 
moved  sedately  to  and  fro. 

They  were  almost  within  pistol  shot,  and  gave 
signs  of  such  alarm  that  it  was  evident  the  fascina- 
tion could  not  last  much  longer. 

"Ready?"  whispered  Karl,  changing  the  flag  to  his 
left  hand,  while,  with  his  right,  he  drew  his  heavy 
revolver. 

"Yes,"  came  the  steady  response. 

"Take  the  young  buck  on  the  left." 

"Good!" 

"Then  let  go !" 

Cuthbert  fired  almost  instantly,  and  at  that  dis- 
tance his  aim  was  fatal. 

The  young  buck  fell  to  the  grass,  while  the  bal- 
ance of  the  herd  sprang  away  as  if  made  up  of 
springs,  the  old  veteran  covering  the  rear,  like  the 
gallant  defender  he  was. 

Karl  had  opened  with  his  battery,  and  the  repeat- 
ing gun  was  worked  for  a  couple  more  shots  ere  the 
antelope  had  passed  out  of  range. 

The  boys  had  reason  to  be  satisfied,  since  three 
head  of  the  game  fell  to  their  share. 

"I'm  glad  that  fine  old  chap  got  away,"  remarked 
Cuthbert,  as  they  tied  the  legs  of  their  quarry  to- 
gether preparatory  to  "toting"  them  to  camp,  as  the 
Virginian  expressed  it. 

"And  I'm  not  sorry.  He  deserved  to  get  off  scot 
free,  and,  besides,  I  hadn't  much  of  a  liking  to  try  my 
teeth  on  his  tough  flesh,"  laughed  Karl. 

"Perhaps  the  next  time  he  sees  a  red  handkerchief 
fluttering  in  the  breeze  he  may  remember  this  sad 
day." 

"Perhaps;  but  I  doubt  it.  Antelopes  are  funny 
birds;  they're  skeery  all  right,  but  mighty  curious. 
If  there's  anything  new  around  they  jest  got  to  see 


The  Gray-Coated  Pirate.  183 

what  it  is.  Can't  stop  themselves.  That's  about 
it." 

"It  is  singular.  No  other  animal  on  the  prairie 
has  that  same  curiosity,  I  suppose." 

"I  reckon  not  so  bad  as  antelope,  anyway." 

"And  yet,"  said  Cuthbert,  reflectively,  "I  have 
seen  pretty  much  the  same  thing  carried  out  on 
Chesapeake  Bay,  with  duck  as  the  victims." 

Karl  looked  at  him  curiously  to  see  if  he  were 
really  in  earnest. 

"Ducks?     Come,  that's  a  new  one  on  me." 

"I'll  tell  you  how  it's  done.  We  have  a  certain 
kind  of  dog  educated  up  to  the  business.  When  a 
great  raft  of  ducks  persists  in  settling  out  of  gun- 
shot from  the  shore,  the  hunters  hide  in  the  bushes, 
and  then  start  the  dog  to  work.  He  seems  to  enter 
into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  races  down  the  little 
beach,  rolls  and  tumbles  and  squirms  as  though  in  a 
fit. 

"Apparently,  the  wild  duck  has  about  as  much  cu- 
riosity in  its  anatomy  as  an  antelope,  for,  by  de- 
grees, the  whole  flock  keeps  swimming  in  closer  to 
the  shore,  with  necks  outstretched  and  showing 
every  indication  of  being  fascinated  by  the  spectacle. 

"Of  course,  when  within  easy  gun  shot,  a  mur- 
derous fire  is  poured  into  the  thick  of  them  by  the 
concealed  hunters,  and  the  water  is  often  covered 
with  the  dead  and  dying.  We  call  this  method  of 
duck-shooting  'tolling,'  as  the  little  dog  tolls  or 
draws  the  birds  in." 

"All  that  is  new  to  me,  and  I'd  like  to  have  a  shy 
at  it  myself,"  declared  Karl. 

"You  will,  when  we  go  East,"  said  his  chum,  as  if 
that  part  of  it  were  all  arranged. 

Between  them  they  carried  the  antelope  to  the 
trees  and  hung  a  couple  of  carcasses  high  above  the 
best  jump  a  hungry  wolf  could  make. 


184  The  Gray-Coated  Pirate. 

Then  the  other  was  taken  to  camp  to  serve  as  the 
evening  meal. 

It  was  a  very  jolly  party  that  feasted  around  the 
camp-fire  that  night. 

Cuthbert  many  times  looked  upon  the  merry  com- 
pany and  tears  would  come  unbidden  into  his  eyes 
when  he  remembered  the  lonesome  evenings  spent 
in  the  Sioux  village,  with  just  such  a  picture  dancing 
before  his  mental  vision. 

Sometimes  it  seemed  so  much  like  a  dream  that 
,he  could  hardly  believe  in  his  good  fortune,  and  felt 
compelled  to  pinch  himself  in  order  to  make  certain 
that  he  had  not  imagined  it  all,  and  would  awaken  to 
keen  disappointment,  to  find  himself  once  more 
among  the  lodges  of  Standing  Elk's  village. 

The  boys  were  quite  jolly. 

They  sang  comic  songs  and  rattled  off  jokes  be- 
tween Munchausen  yarns. 

It  does  not  take  a  great  deal  to  make  your  prairie 
•cowboy  supremely  happy;  care  sits  lightly  on  his 
brow,  for  he  leaves  all  of  that  to  his  employer — the 
ranch  owner. 

With  him,  sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil 
thereof,  and,  having  enough  food  for  the  present, 
he  takes  little  heed  of  the  morrow,  since  that  will  be 
to-day  when  it  comes. 

Nevertheless,  they  were  not  wholly  reckless;  nor 
did  they  forget  that,  strictly  speaking,  they  were  in 
an  enemy's  country. 

There  were  certain  precautions  to  be  taken  in  or- 
der to  guard  against  a  sudden  surprise  and  a  stam- 
pede of  their  stock. 

The  horses  were  put  in  a  rope  corral,  besides  be- 
ing watched. 

A  guard  would  be  on  duty  from  sunset  to  sunrise, 
and  if  the  pursuing  Sioux  managed  to  come  upon 
the  scene  and  get  the  better  of  them  they  would  de- 
serve success. 


The  Gray-Coated  Pirate.  185 

Cuthbert  and  Karl  picked  out  a  soft  spot  on  which 
to  throw  their  blankets. 

Long  they  lay  there,  chatting  in  low  tones. 

It  was  a  great  treat  to  the  boy  who  had  been  so 
long  isolated  from  his  friends,  to  be  there  at  ease  and 
exchange  confidences  with  the  lad  who  was  dearer 
to  him  than  a  brother. 

The  night  wind  stirred  the  leaves  overhead,  the 
camp  fire  burned  low,  here  and  there  a  cowboy  lay 
in  his  blanket,  breathing  hard  in  slumber,  and  ever 
and  anon  came  the  regular  noises  of  the  night,  the 
strident  burr  of  the  cricket,  sharper  notes  of  katy- 
dids, the  croaking  of  frogs,  with  the  more  distant 
barking  of  prairie  dogs,  of  coyotes  and  howling  of 
wolves. 

Once  Karl  caught  a  sound  that  started  him  up  to 
a  sitting  posture. 

"That  was  a  panther?"  said  Cuthbert,  in  the  form 
of  an  inquiry. 

"Yes,  and  a  jim-dandy,  too,  I  reckon." 

The  two  boys  looked  at  each  other. 

Long  before,  Cuthbert  had  expressed  a  hope  that 
fortune  might  be  kind  enough  to  permit  him  to  se- 
cure a  good  panther  skin  to  take  East  when  he  mi- 
grated. 

The  same  thought  came  to  each  mind — was  this 
the  golden  opportunity  ?  would  they  dare  venture  to 
stalk  the  terror  of  the  American  forest  in  his  hunting 
grounds  ? 

Youth  is  ever  impetuous — reckless,  if  you  will. 

These  lads  would  have  been  much  wiser,  no  doubt, 
had  they  let  the  gray  beast  alone,  and,  turning  over 
upon  their  blankets,  wooed  the  gentle  goddess  of 
slumber. 

But  it  seemed  to  their  minds  as  though  the  re- 
peated scream  of  this  old  jay-hawker  might  be  a 
challenge  to  come  out  and  meet  him. 

Both  boys  were  uneasy. 


1 86  The  Gray-Coated  Pirate. 

"He's  in  the  timber,"  ventured  Cuthbert. 

"Sure." 

"And  not  far  away." 

Karl  jumped  up. 

"We  forgot  the  antelopes.  The  critter  smells  the 
fresh  blood  and  he's  making  that  way." 

Cuthbert  laughed. 

"That  settles  it.  No  true-born  American  could 
lie  quiet  and  allow  a  miserable  thief  to  rob  him  of 
the  fruits  of  his  labor.  We  must  sally  forth  and  in- 
terview Mr.  Panther." 

Although  he  spoke  so  lightly,  he  realized  that  such 
an  undertaking  was  not  child's  play— -that  it  was  full 
of  danger. 

As  the  thing  was  now  settled,  Karl  proceeded  to 
make  ready  for  business. 

He  went  about  it  very  quietly,  as  though  it  were 
a  journey  ahead,  for  which  certain  preparations  must 
be  made. 

The  Winchester  was  handed  to  Cuthbert  with  in- 
structions to  make  sure  it  was  in  perfect  order,  with 
plenty  of  cartridges  in  the  reservoir,  since  there 
could  be  no  telling  how  many  shots  would  be  needed 
to  complete  the  tragedy. 

Meanwhile  Karl  found  several  light  wood  torches 
that  would  serve  as  a  means  of  illumination,  at  the 
same  time  protecting  the  boys  from  an  attack,  since, 
in  common  with  other  wild  animals  of  the  feline 
species,  a  panther  has  a  peculiar  dread  of  fire. 

This  was  the  sum  total  of  their  preparations  for 
the  expected  battle. 

Several  of  the  cowboys  who  were  awake  watched 
Karl,  knowing  what  was  in  the  wind.  They  made 
a  few  suggestions,  based  upon  past  experience  but 
did  not  offer  to  accompany  the  young  hunters,  know- 
ing Karl  so  well,  and  that  he  was  well  able  to  look 
out  for  both  himself  and  the  friend  in  his  charge. 

Together  the  boys  left  camp. 


The  Gray-Coated  Pirate.  187 

Karl  carried  the  torch,  having  an  extra  supply  of 
touchwood  fastened  to  his  back ;  at  the  same  time  he 
held  his  gun  in  the  other  hand,  ready,  like  a  true 
cowboy,  to  meet  a  sudden  emergency. 

Cuthbert  handled  the  Winchester. 

If  the  Virginia  lad  was  nervous  or  excited  in  the 
least — which  would  have  been  natural  enough,  con- 
sidering the  circumstances — he  gave  no  outward 
manifestation  of  the  fact. 

Of  course,  he  knew  this  was  game  of  quite  a  dif- 
ferent calibre  from  antelope — that  there  was  dire 
peril  in  hunting  a  big  "gray  jacket,"  as  Karl  called 
the  panther,  in  his  native  woods  and  while  the 
shadows  of  night  held  sway. 

But  Cuthbert  had  a  stanch  heart,  and  he  knew  this 
adventure  was  of  his  own  seeking,  so  that  he  had 
no  cause  for  complaint. 

How  ghastly  the  woods  looked,  once  the  adven- 
turous youths  had  left  the  vicinity  of  the  fire  and 
plunged  into  their  depths. 

Why,  the  sudden  hoot  of  an  owl  startled  Cuth- 
bert and  made  him  turn  half  way  around,  with  an 
involuntary  upward  fling  of  the  gun  toward  his 
shoulder. 

Karl  chuckled  when  he  saw  this,  evidently  appre- 
ciating how  his  comrade's  nerves  were  wrought  up 
to  a  high  tension,  and  that,  at  any  rate,  he  did  not 
mean  to  be  taken  unawares. 

When  next  that  peculiarly  blood-curdling  scream 
reached  their  ears  it  came  from  a  quarter  close  by. 

The  panther  was  ahead  of  them,  and  even  at  that 
moment  must  have  reached  the  edge  of  the  timber 
where  the  two  antelope  carcasses  hung. 

Karl  stepped  up  more  briskly,  the  torch  flaming 
above  his  head,  while,  close  beside  him,  walked  Cuth- 
bert, his  gun  at  a  ready,  his  eager  eyes  endeavoring 
to  pierce  the  darkness  beyond  as  though  he  would 


1 88  The  Gray-Coated  Pirate. 

catch  a  first  glimpse  of  the  terrible  beast  crouching 
somewhere  in  their  path. 

No  more  did  that  cry  guide  them. 

The  panther  had  found  his  prey,  and  was  busily 
engaged  in  endeavoring  to  gain  possession. 

"Steady  now!" 

It  was  Karl  who  spoke,  and  his  voice  did  not  show 
the  least  sign  of  nervous  strain ;  he  had  been  reared 
among  such  scenes,  and  familiarity  is  apt  to  breed 
more  or  less  contempt. 

Evidently  they  were  close  upon  the  spot  where  the 
game  had  been  hung  up. 

Cuthbert's  strained  hearing  now  caught  a  sound 
that  was  quite  different  from  anything  he  had  here- 
tofore heard — a  peculiar  whining,  purring  noise,  not 
unlike  that  which  a  house  cat  gives  forth  when  sat- 
isfied with  the  world. 

"He's  got  one  carcass  on  the  ground,"  said  Karl, 
judging  from  the  sounds. 

So  his  comrade  knew  where  to  look  in  order  to 
catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  beast. 

That  the  panther  was  chewing  at  the  game,  even 
Cuthbert  was  able  to  understand,  and  there  was  lit- 
tle danger  of  his  leaving  his  feast  because  of  their 
approach;  rather  might  he  be  expected  to  vent  his 
ill  humor  at  being  thus  disturbed  by  an  attack. 

Closer  still. 

The  sounds  were  just  beyond. 

"Steady,  boy!"  muttered  Karl. 

A  few  more  steps. 

"I  see  him,"  whispered  Cuthbert. 

"That  ain't  enough — too  risky  a  shot.  We  must 
go  closer,"  said  the  undaunted  Karl,  and  the  Vir- 
ginian knew  he  was  right. 

Much  depended  on  the  first  shot;  even  the 
bravest  of  prairie  men  would  rather  be  excused  from 
encountering  a  wounded  mountain  lion. 

It  must  be  said,  to  Cuthbert's  credit,  that  he  man- 


The  Gray-Coated   Pirate.  189 

aged  to  control  his  nerves  fairly  well  while  thus  de- 
liberately walking  up  to  the  beast,  which  had  now 
ceased  its  catlike  purr,  and  was  growling  savagely  in 
a  way  quite  venomous  enough  to  curdle  one's  blood. 

Surely,  such  an  experience  was  sufficient  to  acquit 
any  one  of  cowardice.  Men  who,  in  the  heat  and  ex- 
citement of  battle,  would  rush  into  the  jaws  of  death 
and  lead  a  forlorn  charge  against  a  smoking,  blaz- 
ing battery,  might  hesitate  to  deliberately  advance 
foot  by  foot  close  up  to  this  bristling  monster. 

Thanks  to  the  illumination  afforded  by  the  torch 
Karl  carried,  they  could  now  see  the  beast  quite 
plainly. 

He  squatted  there  upon  the  ground,  evidently 
with  the  slender  body  of  the  antelope  under  his 
paws;  his  yellow  eyes  glared  like  two  electric  balls 
of  fire,  and  he  continued  to  emit  the  most  terrifying 
sounds  to  indicate  his  anger  at  being  disturbed. 

Karl  stopped. 

The  time  for  action  had  arrived. 

Steadily  Cuthbert  brought  his  gun  to  bear,  having 
in  mind  a  shot  that  would  count 

He  must  have  conquered  that  fluttering  at  his 
heart,  for  his  hands  were  quite  firm. 

Without  ceasing  to  regard  his  intended  quarry,  he 
knew  Karl  had  also  raised  his  gun  and  was  covering 
the  panther,  determined  to  have  a  hand  in  the  final 
scene. 

"When  you  are  ready,  give  it  to  him,"  came  the 
low  admonition. 

It  was,  indeed,  time,  for  the  beast  had  gathered 
for  a  spring,  despite  the  fear  he  might  supposedly 
entertain  for  the  blazing  torch. 

When  Cuthbert  pulled  trigger  he  heard  the  report 
of  the  revolver  so  closely  blended  with  that  of  the 
gun  that  they  seemed  as  one. 

Karl  had  coached  him  as  to  what  next  to  do. 

Even  though  the  great  beast  were  fatally  struck 


190  The  Gray-Coated  Pirate. 

the  chances  were  he  would  make  a  flying  leap,  since 
his  muscles  were  set  for  such  a  purpose. 

He  must  not  find  them  in  the  same  position  when 
he  landed. 

Accordingly,  Cuthbert  had  no  sooner  discharged 
his  gun  than  he  threw  himself  to  one  side.  Even 
then  the  body  of  the  panther  struck  him  a  glancing 
blow  as  he  shot  past,  that  well-nigh  knocked  the  rifle 
out  of  his  hands,  and  certainly  caused  his  heart  to 
stand  still  with  a  certain  dread. 

Though  knocked  to  his  knees,  Cuthbert  did  not 
lose  his  head.  Another  cartridge  was  snapped  into 
the  chamber,  and  then  he  turned  to  face  the  gray- 
coated  monster  once  more. 

The  panther  was  floundering  where  he  struck, 
snapping  his  terrible  jaws  and  uttering  growls  as  be- 
fore, yet  evidently  partly  paralyzed  from  the  effect 
of  the  first  discharge,  and  unable  to  make  the  leap 
he  designed. 

"Whoop!  you've  got  the  critter,"  shouted  Karl, 
approaching  with  his  torch;  "finish  him  neatly  now, 
and  spare  his  head." 

The  worst  was  past. 

Cuthbert  trembled  with  excitement,  now  that  vic- 
tory seemed  within  his  grasp. 

Nevertheless,  he  managed  to  draw  a  bead  on  the 
spot  where  he  knew  he  could  reach  the  animal's 
heart,  and  let  fly. 

That  finished  Mr.  Panther  in  a  jiffy,  and  Cuthbert 
drew  a  sigh  of  relief  when  the  big  tiger  cat  rolled 
over,  clawing  at  space. 

Reaction  set  in,  compelling  him  to  drop  his  gun 
and  sink  to  the  ground. 

Karl  sprang  to  his  side. 

"Not  hurt,  I  hope,  old  fellow?"  he  asked,  solici- 
tously. 

"It's  the  shock  and  the  strain ;  I'll  be  all  right  pres- 


The  Gray-Coated  Pirate.  191 

ently.  Take  the  gun  and  look  out.  This  fellow 
may  have  a  mate  near  by,"  Cuthbert  said. 

But  Karl  was  not  worried  over  that  chance;  with 
such  a  formidable  weapon  of  defense  it  mattered 
little  as  to  whether,  there  was  one  or  half-a-dozen 
panthers  in  the  timber. 

Finally  Cuthbert  felt  himself  again,  and,  as  the 
beast  had  given  his  last  kick,  he  went  eagerly  for- 
ward to  survey  his  quarry. 

Any  boy  might  well  have  been  pardoned  for  feel- 
ing proud  over  such  a  trophy. 

Karl  declared  the  panther  to  be  the  very  largest 
he  had  ever  seen,  and  even  the  oldest  cowboy  in  the 
bunch  confessed  he  had  never,  in  a  long  experience, 
run  across  a  mountain  lion  of  such  huge  proportions. 

So  that  it  was  quite  a  feather  in  Cuthbert's  cap, 
of  which  he  might  well  be  proud. 

Then  shouts  were  heard,  to  which  they  sent  back 
answering  whoops,  and  presently  some  of  the  cow- 
boys appeared  on  the  scene,  curious  to  know  what 
measure  of  success  fortune  had  meted  out  to  the 
young  hunters  of  big  game. 

It  was  a  proud  moment  for  Cuthbert. 

But  he  would  not  soon  forget  the  harrowing 
growls  of  the  big  cat,  and  the  shock  he  received 
when  the  flying  beast  struck  him  a  glancing  clip. 
There  was  a  black  and  blue  spot  on  his  left  shoulder 
for  some  weeks  afterward,  as  a  reminder  of  the  little 
adventure. 

That  skin,  together  with  the  head,  he  hoped  to 
take  East  with  him  later  on  as  a  memento  of  his  life 
on  the  plains. 

Karl  was  up  at  daylight  to  skin  the  animal — Karl, 
who  knew  not  what  it  was  to  spare  himself  when 
he  could  do  something  for  others. 

If  Standing  Elk  and  his  braves  had  come  this 
far  south  in  their  search  for  the  runaway,  they  did 
not  discover  themselves  to  the  cowboy  band  from 


192  The  Gray-Coated  Pirate. 

Sunset  Ranch,  much  to  the  grief  of  several  despe- 
rate souls  among  the  rough  riders  who  would  really 
rather  fight  than  eat,  and  who,  having  cast  their  for- 
tunes in  with  this  expedition  under  the  positive  be- 
lief that  the  Indian  village  must  be  attacked  and 
much  savage  warfare  ensue,  were  really  disheartened 
at  the  way  things  turned  out. 

Indeed,  one  or  more  of  them  even  went  so  far  as 
to  reproach  Cuthbert  for  cutting  loose  so  soon  and 
spoiling  their  romantic  plans  of  rescue,  which  might 
have  taken  Little  Buckshot  into  the  village  disguised 
as  the  medicine  man,  and  ended  with  the  stampede  of 
all  the  horses  in  the  corral — perhaps  the  acquisition 
of  their  own  stolen  property. 

Of  course,  Cuthbert  could  not  feel  that  he  was  re- 
sponsible in  any  sense,  since  he  had  acted  in  an  in- 
dependent spirit ;  more  than  one  moon  had  he  waited 
for  the  rescue  that  never  came,  so  he  was  justified  in 
finally  taking  matters  in  his  own  hands. 

Of  course,  it  was  all  in  fun.  Why,  the  chap  who 
complained  the  most  had  been  the  loudest  in  his 
praise  of  Cuthbert's  gallant  escape. 

He  knew  how  to  take  these  rough  spirits,  and 
joked  with  them  after  a  man  of  their  heart. 

After  breakfast  the  camp  was  broken  up. 

No  sign  of  a  disturbing  element  could  be  seen 
upon  the  prairie,  but  these  men  were  always  ready 
to  meet  a  surprise,  and  while  galloping  on  toward 
the  far  distant  range,  kept  on  the  lookout  for  hidden 
'danger. 

The  tricky  Indians  would  like  nothing  better  than 
to  hide  in  some  depression,  and  ambush  them  as  they 
rode  along ;  such  traps  had  been  successfully  worked 
in  the  past,  and  never  became  too  ancient  to  suit  the 
dusky  braves. 

It  was  a  long  ride,  and  another  camp  became  nec- 
essary, in  order  to  spare  their  ponies. 

The  range  was  not  far  away ;  cattle  had  even  been 


The  Gray-Coated  Pirate.  193 

seen,  and  Cuthbert's  heart  beat  high  with  pleasure  at 
the  familiar  sight. 

Presently  he  would  be  mounted  on  his  own  horse, 
with  a  lariat  in  hand,  dashing  hither  and  yon  in  pur- 
suit of  obstinate  cattle  that  refused  to  keep  with  the 
herd. 

It  surprised  him  to  realize  what  a  strange  fascina- 
tion this  wild  life  held  for  him.  When  a  prisoner 
among  the  Sioux  he  had  thought  that,  once  more 
free,  he  would  start  East  and  resume  his  former 
career ;  but  the  first  sight  of  cattle  awoke  within  him 
the  desire  to  see  more  of  this  wonderful  country  and 
its  strange  sights.  There  were  avenues  he  had  not 
yet  explored,  of  which  Karl  had  never  ceased  to 
talk — of  hunting  and  trapping  in  the  winter,  and  ex- 
peditions to  Texas  and  old  Mexico  after  cattle — of 
the  gold  miner's  wild  life,  seeking  fortune's  smiles 
amid  the  rugged  fastnesses  of  the  Black  Hills. 

Well,  all  things  considered,  he  was  not  yet  ready 
to  give  up  this  adventurous  life  and  resume  his 
hopeless  search  in  city  and  town  for  the  girl  cousin 
who  persisted  in  being  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  continually 
eluding  his  grasp. 

And  this  determination  became  stronger  the  next 
day  when  he  sighted  the  beloved  Sunset  Ranch,  and 
a  charming  little  maid  named  Polly  galloped  out  on 
her  pony  to  meet  and  welcome  home  the  long  lost 
lad  who  had  won  a  place  in  her  warm  girlish  heart. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ALL     FOR     POLLY. 

The  old  life  was  resumed. 

For  a  time  Cuthbert  enjoyed  it  to  the  full,  and 
was  never  so  happy  as  when  cruising  about  over  the 
prairie  mounted  on  his  good  steed,  free  to  go  and 
come  at  will. 

The  germ  was  working,  however,  in  the  seed 
planted  by  Karl's  stories  of  other  scenes,  and  by 
degrees  a  resolution  was  being  formed  not  to  pass 
another  winter,  on  a  northern  cattle  range,  where  the 
exposure  was  terrific  at  times. 

He  talked  it  over  with  Karl  on  many  occasions 
when  they  chummed  together,  roping  cattle,  or 
watching  horses  at  night. 

By  degrees  a  plan  was  formed  which  they  intended 
carrying  out. 

This  consisted  of  a  grand  hunt  for  the  winter 
away  up  in  the  woods  and  hills  of  which  Old  Sile 
had  told  them  such  amazing  stories. 

The  best  of  it  was  the  old  veteran  had  been  per- 
suaded to  be  one  of  the  party. 

Cuthbert  left  matters  entirely  in  his  hands,  with 
the  understanding  that  nothing  that  money  could 
purchase  was  to  be  left  out  if  it  could  be  conveniently 
carried  and  would  add  to  their  comfort. 

Meanwhile,  the  fall  days  had  come — those  hal- 
cyon days,  full  of  splendid  vigor  and  never  to  be  for- 
gotten, when  one  seemed  to  renew  his  youth  like 
the  eagle,  and  simply  rejoiced  to  know  that  he  was 
alive  and  could  appreciate  the  glorious  things 
around  him. 

The  boys  had  almost  forgotten  all  about  old 
Standing  Elk,  and,  as  for  Caleb  Cross,  he  had  never 


All  for  Polly.  195 

been  seen  again  on  his  old  stamping  ground — which 
was  a  good  thing,  so  far  as  his  bodily  health  was  con- 
cerned, for  the  boys  of  X  bar  X  outfit  stood  ready  to 
make  it  exceedingly  warm  for  a  fellow  answering  his 
description,  should  he  show  up. 

It  was  about  this  time  trouble  came. 

A  bolt  of  lightning  from  a  clear  sky  could  not 
have  created  more  consternation. 

Karl  and  Cuthbert  were  galloping  leisurely  home 
after  a  long  chase  after  a  bunch  of  straying  cattle 
supposed  to  belong  to  their  herds,  but  which,  upon 
being  rounded  up,  proved  to  have  the  circular  brand 
of  the  Cody  ranch,  far  off  to  the  south,  when  they 
saw  Polly  coming  to  meet  them,  mounted  on  her 
pony,  which  she  rode  like  an  Indian  princess. 

Now,  this  in  itself  was  nothing  unusual,  since  she 
often  came  out  to  ride  a  mile  or  two  in  company 
with  her  adopted  brothers ;  but  somehow,  even  at  a 
distance,  they  discovered  that  the  girl  was  not  her 
bonnie,  laughing  self. 

"Something  wrong  at  the  ranch,"  said  Karl, 
quickening  his  horse's  gait. 

Cuthbert,  too,  was  more  disturbed  than  his  face 
betrayed;  he  seemed  to  feel  as  though  a  great  dis- 
aster were  impending. 

Polly  had  been  crying;  her  eyes  were  red  and 
did  not  look  as  beautiful  as  usual. 

"Hello !"  exclaimed  brusque  Karl,  "what's  the  mat- 
ter with  you,  Polly?  Who's  been  abusing  you?" 

She  drew  herself  up  with  dignity. 

"No  one;  you  know  very  well  I  wouldn't  stand 
abuse  from  anybody.  It's  worse  than  that,"  her 
voice  suddenly  failing  her,  and  a  whimper  indicating 
great  distress  of  mind. 

Karl  whistled,  while  Cuthbert  frowned. 

"Worse  than  that?"  they  cried,  in  chorus. 

"Yes,  far  worse.  I'm  going  away,"  she  piped, 
between  her  sobs. 


196  All  for  Polly. 

Then  the  two  lads  looked  at  each  other  in  dire 
consternation,  as  they  realized  that  in  truth  some 
sort  of  calamity  had  happened. 

"Going  away — is  Mr.  Kelly  thinking,  after  all,  of 
sending  you  East  to  school?"  for  some  such  project 
as  this  had  been  mentioned. 

"Mr.  Kelly  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  it,"  an- 
swered Polly,  girl-like,  trying  to  bewilder  them  a 
little. 

"Then,  who  has,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"He's  come  back." 

The  boys  looked  at  each  other  again  and  shook 
their  heads  in  despair. 

"Oh,  he  has!"  said  Karl,  with  some  sarcasm. 

"He  wasn't  killed  by  the  Indians  at  all." 

"What!  Do  you  mean  that  old  reprobate  who 
allowed  you  to  be  captured  by  the  Indians?"  cried 
Cuthbert,  in  dismay. 

"My  uncle,"  she  said,  reprovingly. 

"I  don't  care  if  he  is  your  uncle  ten  times  over. 
You've  told  us  enough  about  his  mean  ways  to  make 
any  one  hate  and  despise  him.  And  so  the  Indians 
let  him  live !  I  don't  believe  I  can  ever  forgive  them 
for  that." 

"Why,  Cuthbert?"  reproachfully. 

"What  business  has  he  popping  up  again  like  an 
old  Jack-in-the-box — what  right  has  he  to  demand 
that  you  leave  the  comfortable  home  you  are  in  and 
go  wandering  over  the  face  of  the  earth  again  with 
him?" 

"He  says  he  has — claims  that  I  was  left  in  his 
charge,  and  besides  that  I  will  be  worth  a  fortune  to 
him  some  day." 

"Well,  we'll  see,"  said  Karl,  grimly. 

"Polly,  you  don't  want  to  go  ?"  appealed  Cuthbert. 

"No,  oh,  no !  It  will  break  my  heart,"  wailed  the 
girl,  with  no  thought  now  of  dignity,  only  the  great 
sorrow  that  overwhelmed  her,  rushing  to  the  front. 


All  for  Polly.  197 

"Then,  Polly;  don't  fret — you're  going  to  stay," 
said  Cuthbert,  solemnly,  while  Karl  nodded  assent. 

It  might  have  been  very  amusing  to  any  outsider 
to  have  witnessed  this  little  scene,  but  the  boys  were 
certainly  dead  in  earnest. 

The  bridle  was  on  her  pony's  neck.  She  caught 
a  hand  of  each  and  gave  them  such  a  thankful  look 
from  her  tear-dimmed  eyes. 

You  would  have  thought  the  boys  were  a  couple 
of  mail-clad  knights  come  to  rescue  a  forlorn  prin- 
cess from  the  giant's  castle ;  and  indeed  so  they  were, 
in  truth,  according  to  her  way  of  thinking. 

"What  does  Mr.  Kelly  say?"  asked  Cuthbert,  a 
little  uneasily. 

"He  seems  uncertain  how  to  act.  You  know  he 
has  a  great  respect  for  the  law,  and  yet  he  really 
cares  for  poor  me.  I  think  when  you  side  with  me 
Mr.  Kelly  will  get  new  backbone  and  refuse  to  give 
me  up." 

"You  bet  he  will!"  said  Karl,  briskly. 

"Come,  cheer  up,  Polly.  We'll  see  you  through 
all  right.  Now  for  a  race  to  the  ranch." 

Cuthbert  wished  to  get  the  thing  over  with  as  soon 
as  possible.  When  there  was  any  disagreeable  duty 
to  be  performed  he  was  always  in  a  great  hurry. 

So  the  three  started  off,  and  Polly  won,  as  she  al- 
ways did,  for  the  boys  knew  it  gave  her  infinite 
pleasure;  and,  besides,  they  secretly  liked  to  gal- 
lop behind,  admiring  the  little  witch  with  the  long, 
flowing  hair,  who  turned  to  laugh  and  mock  their 
apparently  useless  efforts  to  catch  up  with  the  pro- 
cession. 

Accordingly,  when  they  presently  drew  up  at  the 
door  of  the  long,  low  ranch  building,  Polly,  with 
flushed  cheeks  and  sparkling,  saucy  eyes,  looked 
quite  different  from  the  woe-begone  girl  who  had 
come  to  meet  them. 


198  All  for  Polly. 

They  found  Mr.  Kelly  and  his  wife,  together  with 
several  of  the  boys,  at  the  door. 

There  was  also  a  stranger. 

Cuthbert  had  heartily  disliked  Polly's  uncle  from 
the  idea  of  the  man  he  had  formed  in  his  mind, 
based  upon  many  incidents  mentioned  from  time 
to  time  by  Polly. 

Hence  he  was  not  at  all  surprised  to  see  a  sinister, 
sleek-looking  individual  of  middle  age,  who  could  as- 
sume the  holy  countenance  of  a  missionary  or  look 
like  a  pirate,  at  pleasure. 

The  whole  controversy  was  renewed. 

Mr.  Kelly  told  how  dear  Polly  had  become  to 
them,  and  offered  the  man  quite  a  sum  if  he  would 
go  away  and  renounce  all  claim  to  the  girl  he  called 
his  niece. 

Although  the  fellow's  crafty  eyes  glittered  at  men- 
tion of  the  sum,  still  he  flatly  refused  to  accept  it, 
giving  as  his  reason  that  she  had  been  left  in  his 
charge  as  a  sacred  trust,  and  also  that  he  expected 
some  day  she  would  be  worth  ten  times  the  paltry 
sum  Mr.  Kelly  offered  him. 

Then  the  blood  of  old  Irish  kings  arose  in  the 
ranch  owner's  veins. 

He  gave  the  fellow  just  ten  minutes  to  mount  his 
horse  and  get  away. 

"Sue  if  you  want — carry  it  to  court  if  it  pleases 
you.  Perhaps  I  may  have  some  pretty  things  to 
tell,  if  what  Mrs.  Kelly  has  learned  from  the  child 
is  true.  Out  in  this  country  they  hang  a  man  for 
kidnapping  a  child.  Now,  go  your  way — the  girl 
remains  with  us." 

When  the  ranchman  pronounced  what  was  his  ul- 
timatum, the  cowboys,  who  had  been  anxiously 
awaiting  the  turn  of  affairs,  burst  into  a  mighty 
shout,  in  which  Karl  and  Cuthbert  joined.  Polly 
ran  to  Mother  Kelly  and  threw  her  arms  around  the 
neck  of  that  good  dame. 


All  for  Polly.  199 

As  for  her  uncle,  he  threw  aside  the  mask,  since  a 
sanctified  face  would  avail  no  longer,  and  the  look 
he  gave  Mr.  Kelly  and  his  cowboys  was  that  of  an 
infuriated  tiger. 

"Very  good.  You  win  now,  but  my  day  will 
come,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Jasper  Hosmer." 

He  was  wise  enough  to  limit  his  harangue  to 
these  few  words,  for  the  Sunset  Ranch  boys  were  in 
a  humor  to  have  ducked  him  in  the  mill  pond;  per- 
haps even  tarred  and  feathered  him,  did  he  go  too 
far. 

He  rode  away,  boiling  with  wrath,  but  wise 
enough  to  repress  it. 

A  mile  away  he  turned  and  shook  his  fist  at  the 
ranch,  even  as  Marmion  of  old  did  his  mail-clad  hand 
when  he  had  cleared  the  drawbridge  trembling  on 
the  rise  at  Douglas  Castle,  after  defying  the  proud 
Scottish  laird. 

There  was  a  yelp,  as  of  dogs  let  loose  from  the 
leash,  and  every  eager  cowboy  sprang  for  his  horse, 
longing  to  pursue  the  fellow  and  drag  him  at  the 
end  of  a  rope;  but  Mr.  Kelly  sternly  forbade  the 
least  effort  being  made  to  impede  Jasper  Hosmer's 
withdrawal  from  the  scene. 

"Only  remember,  that  I  draw  the  line  there.  If 
the  skunk  shows  up  again,  he  means  evil,  and  I  don't 
want  to  know  anything  about  it,"  by  which  he  meant 
they  were  to  have  a  free  hand  in  dealing  with  the 
fellow  should  he  come  prowling  about  with  the  idea 
of  stealing  Polly  or  doing  her  protectors  any  dam- 
age. 

This  had  to  satisfy  them. 

Polly  was  the  happiest  girl  in  all  the  prairie  coun- 
try that  night. 

For  some  time  she  had  secretly  'drea'ded  lest  this 
so-styled  uncle  might  turn  up  again,  since  he  was  a 
cat  with  nine  lives ;  and,  knowing  his  unkind  treat- 
ment of  old,  she  shuddered  at  the  prospect  of  being 


200  All  for  Polly. 

compelled  to  accompany  him  once  more  in  his  wan- 
derings. 

Mrs.  Kelly  had  a  long  talk  with  the  girl,  and  the 
ranch  owner  was  also  called  into  consultation,  as 
though  matters  of  moment  were  being  discussed, 
while  Polly  related  facts  having  a  bearing  on  her 
past  history,  which  she  had  thus  far  kept  to  her- 
self. 

Apparently  they  had  nothing  to  fear.  This  dis- 
turber of  the  peace  of  Sunset  Ranch  appeared  to  be 
single-handed,  and  would  probably  keep  clear  of  the 
range  lest  he  run  across  a  squad  of  the  indignant 
cowboys,  who  would  not  hesitate  to  jerk  rope  with 
him. 

At  the  same  time,  he  might  be  in  touch  with  some 
of  the  tough  characters,  or  "bad  men,"  who  for 
various  causes  had  been  run  out  of  the  settlements, 
so  that  a  raid  was  possible. 

For  a  time  Polly  haunted  the  vicinity  of  the  house, 
and  all  went  well. 

By  degrees,  however,  the  scare  passed  away,  and 
the  beautiful  weather  of  Indian  summer  enticed  her 
to  resume  her  former  free  life,  gathering  the  fall 
flowers,  chasing  jack  rabbits,  watching  the  cunning 
antics  of  the  prairie  dogs  and  all  the  various  pleas- 
ures to  be  found  at  this  season  of  the  year,  when 
the  October  days  bring  bright  sunshine  and  crisp 
ozone. 

Even  the  boys,  who  had  constituted  themselves 
into  a  guard  of  honor,  gradually  lost  their  fear  of 
trouble. 

That  was  where  they  failed  to  give  the  man  full 
credit  for  dogged  perseverance — had  they  known 
the  full  nature  of  the  game  he  was  playing  they 
might  have  expected  his  return. 

For  the  inveterate  uncle  came  back. 

This  time  he  did  not  ride  boldly  up  to  the  door  of 


All  for  Polly.  201 

the  ranch  and  insolently  demand  that  the  girl,  his 
niece,  be  turned  over  to  him. 

That  sort  of  bravado  would  have  availed  him  noth- 
ing, save  possibly  an  elegant  coat  of  tar  and  feath- 
ers and  a  Mazeppa  ride  on  the  back  of  a  wild 
broncho. 

He  knew  this,  and  laid  his  plans  accordingly.  He 
could  play  a  game  of  trickery  equal  to  the  most  wily 
Indian. 

There  were  others  whose  acquaintance  he  formed 
— men  ready  to  undertake  desperate  work  at  the 
toss  of  a  hat,  or  perhaps  who  entertained  a  hatred 
for  the  owner  of  Sunset  Ranch  on  account  of  fan- 
cied or  real  grievances. 

Perhaps  Caleb  Cross  was  in  the  swim.  It  would 
not  be  at  all  surprising. 

At  any  rate  the  game  was  laid,  and  all  that  re- 
mained was  to  find  an  opportunity. 

It  was  one  afternoon  that  Cuthbert  came  gallop- 
ing like  mad  toward  the  ranch  house,  a  look  of  deep 
concern  on  his  face. 

"Where's  Polly?"  he  shouted  before  drawing  rein. 

Mr.  Kelly,  smoking  at  his  ease  on  the  porch,  had 
jumped  up  on  seeing  that  the  boy  appeared  ex- 
cited. 

"I  don't  know — wife,  wife,  where's  Polly — have 
you  seen  her  lately?"  he  called. 

Down  went  the  pipe,  and  he  began  buckling  on 
his  well-worn  belt,  holding  knife  and  gun. 

Mrs.  Kelly  came  out,  white  and  trembling. 

"An  hour  ago  she  went  flying  past  the  window 
yonder  on  her  pony,  and  sent  me  a  merry  laugh 
and  a  kiss.  Oh!  what  has  happened  to  the  child?" 

"Yes,  what  do  you  know,  Cuthbert?"  demanded 
the  steady  ranch  owner,  buckling  his  belt. 

Cuthbert  gave  a  groan. 

"Simply  that  she's  been  carried  off." 


202  All  for  Polly. 

"That  uncle  of  hers " 

"I  reckon  he  was  with  them." 

"Wait;  tell  me  when  I  come  back.  Now  for  the 
boys  to  have  a  chance  to  stretch  rope,"  grimly. 

With  that  Kelly  sprang  to  the  alarm  bell,  upon 
which  he  beat  such  a  fierce  tattoo  that  it  could  have 
been  heard  for  miles  around. 

Instantly  from  various  directions  horsemen  were 
seen  in  full  speed;  thev  headed  one  and  all  toward 
the  ranch  as  spokes  turn  toward  the  hub  of  a  wheel. 

Perhaps  in  five  minutes  a  dozen  cow  punchers 
might  be  on  the  spot,  eager  to  participate  in  the 
chase  that  would  begin. 

Back  again  to  where  Cuthbert  was  talking  with 
the  good  wife,  Kelly  skipped. 

He  was  as  cool  and  clear-headed  as  though  giv- 
ing orders  for  a  grand  round-up,  and  in  an  emer- 
gency such  as  this  it  were  worth  something  to  have 
so  collected  a  man  in  charge. 

"Now,  tell  me  all,"  he  said. 

Cuthbert  had  mastered  his  excitement ;  he  seemed 
to  find  Kelly's  nerve  contagious. 

Besides,  he  knew  that  time  counted  for  some- 
thing, and  the  occasion  called  for  a  brief  and  com- 
prehensive statement  upon  which  Mr.  Kelly  could 
found  his  plan  of  action. 

"It  was  this  way:  We  were  coming  home  from 
Cutler's  Creek  with  a  few  head  of  stock  for  ship- 
ment when  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  squad  of  horse- 
men just  passing  out  of  sight  beyond  the  queer  ridge 
known  as  the  Pack  Saddle.  Something  white  flut- 
tering among  them  caught  my  eye,  and  I  was  sure 
I  saw  a  woman  or  girl  waving  a  pocket  handker- 
chief before  they  dropped  out  of  sight. 

"Karl  stood  ready  to  declare  it  was  Polly.  You 
know  his  wonderful  eyes,  and  that  this  uncle  of  hers 
was  one  of  the  raiders. 


All  for  Polly.  203 

"We  consulted  hastily,  and  while  he  started  to  fol- 
low after  the  party  I  put  for  home.  I  reckon  I  made 
the  fifteen  miles  in  less  than  forty  minutes,  with  the 
horse  tired  at  that." 

"How  many  did  you  say  there  were?"  asked  Mr. 
Kelly,  quietly. 

"I  didn't  count,  but  I  should  say  not  less  than  five 
in  the  bunch." 

"H'm.  We'll  have  some  warm  times  yet  I  ex- 
pect. And  over  the  Pack  Saddle,  too !  They  mean 
to  run  for  the  hills,  where  some  of  these  despera- 
does have  dens  of  hiding.  Wife,  get  me  another 
handful  of  cartridges.  My  boy,  pick  out  a  fresh 
mount.  There'll  be  some  hot  riding  before  morn- 
ing, I  reckon." 

There  was  a  stern  look  on  Kelly's  flushed  face, 
an  expression  that  boded  ill  for  the  rascals  who  had 
kidnapped  poor  Polly,  when  the  hour  of  reckoning 
came. 

"No  mercy,  remember.  The  border  law  is  death 
to  a  horse  thief,  and  this  critter  has  robbed  me  of 
something  more  valuable  than  all  my  saddle  band. 
For,  hark  ye,  boys!  Mrs.  Kelly  and  myself  have 
learned  since  he  was  here  that  after  all  he  never 
bore  the  relation  of  uncle  to  our  Polly — she  was 
stolen  by  him  from  her  dying  father,  a  man  called 
Gordon.  That  was  the  girl's  secret;  she  was  told 
to  guard  it  always,  because  her  father  had  broken 
the  law,  and  the  disgrace  would  attach  to  her.  So 
he's  only  a  rascal  and  a  thief  after  all,  and  deserves 
no  mercy  at  your  hands." 

"Did  you  say  Gordon?"  demanded  Cuthbert,  pale 
with  a  sudden  tremendous  suspicion,  as  he  caught 
Mr.  Kelly's  arm  ere  he  could  turn  away,  "and  was 
her  father's  name  Bernard  ?" 

"Why,  yes,  so  Polly  said,"  declared  Mrs.  Kelly,  in 
womanly  wonder. 


204  All  for  Polly. 

Cuthbert's  face  was  a  study;  it  seemed  filled  with 
amazement,  joy  and  dismay,  if  such  a  rare  combina- 
tion could  exist. 

"Oh!  what  a  strange  thing  it  all  is.  Why  did 
Polly  guard  her  secret  so  long  from  me?  One  little 
hint  must  have  awakened  suspicions,  and  I  told  her 
of  my  search  without  ever  mentioning  names.  What 
a  fool  I  have  been.  All  the  while  she  has  been  so 
near  me,  the  little  cousin  for  whom  I  have  searched 
half  over  the  world,  to  find  whom  was  the  last  prom- 
ise I  made  my  dying  mother." 

"Cousin — Polly!"  ejaculated  the  ranchman's  wife, 
now  beaming  with  sudden  joy,  for  she,  too,  knew 
Cuthbert's  story  in  outline,  without  any  of  the  de- 
tails or  names. 

"Yes,  I  believe  she  is  really  Hildegarde  Gordon, 
the  girl  I  have  wanted  so  long  to  find,"  declared 
Cuthbert,  resolutely. 

"That  is  her  real  name,  sure  enough,  though  she 
says  she  has  always  been  called  Polly,  and  likes  it 
best.  This  is  a  wonderful  thing.  God  grant  you 
bring  her  back  safe  and  sound,  so  that  we  may  have 
double  cause  for  rejoicing." 

Cuthbert  could  not  linger,  even  to  discuss  so  re- 
markable a  thing. 

If  all  went  well  there  would  be  time  enough  for 
this  later  on,  when  Polly  had  been  snatched  from 
the  hands  of  scheming  Jasper  Hosmer,  who  evi- 
dently had  a  pretty  good  inkling  of  the  truth,  and 
meant  to  realize  upon  the  girl's  prospects. 

He  sprang  away  to  rope  a  new  mount,  not  desir- 
ous of  being  left  in  the  lurch  when  the  rescuing 
band  galloped  away  from  Sunset  Ranch,  bound  al- 
most due  northeast. 

There  was  considerable  bustle  and  confusion 
around  that  region  for  a  brief  time,  as  cowboys 
changed  their  saddles  and  made  other  hasty  prep- 
arations for  a  hot  chase. 


All  for  Polly.  205 

No  class  of  men  can  get  ready  for  action  in 
quicker  time  than  these  rough  riders,  and  ere 
twenty  minutes  had  followed  the  clang  of  the  alarm 
bell  they  were  off. 

No  shouts  and  cheers  marked  their  departure,  but 
grim  faces  and  set  jaws  told  of  the  determination  to 
make  it  exceedingly  warm  for  the  desperadoes  when 
the  final  round-up  occurred. 

Cuthbert  was  in  a  fever  heat. 

He  could  hardly  yet  believe  the  wonderful  good 
fortune  that  had  fallen  to  his  lot.  It  seemed 
too  good  to  be  true,  for  of  all  the  girls  he  had  ever 
met  Polly  was  the  one  he  would  have  chosen  for  a 
cousin  had  he  been  given  the  opportunity. 

And  Karl,  who  also  loved  the  girl  like  a  sister, 
how  delighted  he  would  be  when  he  learned  the 
amazing  truth! 

Then  the  dangerous  nature  of  their  mission  came 
up  before  him  to  trouble  his  mind  and  chase  away 
^the  pleasant  dreams  in  which  he  had  just  been  in- 
dulging. 

Would  Karl  be  able  to  keep  them  in  sight?  He 
was  but  one  against  many,  and  they  might  turn  upon 
him  to  inflict  injury. 

Meanwhile  the  pace  grew  hotter,  as  the  horses 
warmed  to  their  work,  and  Pack  Saddle  speedily 
loomed  up  ahead. 

Several  other  cowboys  had  been  met  and  given 
the  news  to  circulate  around,  so  that  a  second  party 
might  be  organized  to  follow  their  trail,  since  there 
could  be  no  telling  what  dangers  lay  ahead  of  them, 
once  they  penetrated  the  Bad  Lands. 

Cuthbert  found  himself  entering  into  the  spirit  of 
the  thing  with  quite  as  much  vim  as  any  of  the 
old  cow  punchers. 

His  year  and  more  on  the  prairie  had  filled  him 


206  All  for  Polly. 

with  that  love  for  adventure  always  lying  dormant 
in  a  natural  boy's  system  until  some  accident  calls 
it  into  action. 

Besides,  he  had  a  sufficient  motive  to  excuse  any 
ferocity  he  might  feel  toward  the  miserable  kid- 
nappers. Polly  had  turned  out  to  be  the  will-o'-the 
wisp  he  had  chased  so  long,  his  own  cousin,  a  Gor- 
don, of  Virginia,  bless  her  sweet  face!  And  family 
pride,  as  well  as  the  affection  he  bore  her,  demanded 
that  he  take  a  leading  part  in  her  speedy  rescue. 

So  that  he  was  firmly  resolved  to  let  no  scruple 
hinder  him  from  accomplishing  this  thing,  if  so  be 
a  kindly  fortune  gave  him  the  opportunity. 

One  thing  pleased  him  mightily. 

They  had  by  the  greatest  accident  in  the  world 
run  across  Old  Sile,  plodding  along  upon  an  ancient 
and  weary  broncho,  bound  for  the  ranch  with  a  mes- 
sage from  his  employer  down  at  the  Lone  Star 
outfit. 

Now,  Old  Sile  was  invaluable  in  an  affair  of  this 
kind,  and  Mr.  Kelly,  thankful  for  the  good  fortune 
that  sent  him  their  way,  immediately  saw  a  chance 
to  give  him  a  good  mount,  as  there  was  one  cow- 
boy in  the  band  just  recovering  from  a  severe  fall 
and  really  not  fit  for  such  a  campaign. 

So,  to  his  disgust,  he  was  sent  back  on  the  scare- 
crow beast  Old  Sile  had  ridden,  while  the  old  ranger 
threw  a  leg  over  the  fresh  mount.  Nothing  pleased 
Sile  half  so  much  as  a  chance  for  action.  He  seemed 
to  grow  twenty  years  younger  at  a  jump;  his  gray 
eyes  twinkled,  and  that  chuckle  of  his  broke  forth  at 
intervals  as  though  he  considered  it  a  rare  piece  of 
good  luck  to  be  thus  waylaid  and  forced  to  join  a 
party  of  self-appointed  Regulators.  To  destroy  ver- 
min he  considered  constituted  one  of  the  most  re- 
ligious duties  of  an  honest  man,  and  it  mattered  lit- 
tle to  him  whether  the  destruction  fell  upon  beast, 


All  for  Polly.  207 

bird,  reptile  or  human  being,  so  long  as  they  were 
a  bad  lot. 

And,  far  beyond  Pack  Saddle,  they  scoured  the 
plain,  following  the  broad  trail;  thus  the  coming  of 
night  found  them  still  pushing  grimly  on,  a  deter- 
mined, eager  band. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

WHERE      KARL      WENT. 

When  Karl  parted  from  his  bosom  friend  and 
started  to  chase  across  the  prairie  after  the  band  of 
mounted  men  in  whose  midst  there  seemed  good 
reason  to  believe  his  keen  eyes  had  discovered  Polly, 
he  was  not  thinking  to  any  extent  of  the  danger  he 
ran. 

Rather,  it  was  the  miserable  fate  of  the  girl  that 
gave  him  cause  for  anxiety. 

He  had  good  reason  to  know  how  thoroughly  she 
detested  this  man  claiming  to  be  her  uncle  and  guar- 
dian, and  that  it  was  only  force  which  could  in- 
fluence her  to  accompany  him. 

Polly  was  completely  satisfied  with  her  life  at  the 
Kelly  ranch,  where  each  day  was  so  many  hours  of 
joy,  and  where  her  sweet  voice  was  so  often  uplifted 
in  notes  of  glad  thanksgiving. 

To  go  out  again  into  the  world,  to  resume  a  mis- 
erable nomadic  life  in  company  with  this  man  from 
whom  she  insensibly  shrank,  though  he  had  never 
been  positively  cruel  to  her — this  prospect  had 
been  one  to  fill  her  with  horror,  as  Karl  well  knew. 

Hence,  he  could  be  quite  positive  that  she  had  not 
accompanied  Jasper  of  her  own  free  will. 

Karl  had  in  his  younger  life  been  concerned  in 
many  dangerous  enterprises. 

These  usually  had  connection  with  hunting  ad- 
ventures and  the  troubles  that  were  apt  to  arise 
upon  the  range. 

Besides,  there  were  occasions  when  his  skill  was 
pitted  against  human  sagacity,  and  the  game  was  a 
serious  battle  of  wits  and  endurance. 

The  raid  of  the  cattle  thieves  and  the  seizure  of 


Where  Karl  Went.  209 

the  saddle  band  at  the  time  Cuthbert  was  taken 
prisoner  were  but  two  instances  among  quite  a  num- 
ber when  he  found  himself  forced  to  face  danger  at 
the  hands  of  unscrupulous  human  beings. 

He  believed  it  to  be  his  duty  to  keep  these  riders 
in  sight  as  long  as  possible,  and  make  as  broad  a 
trail  as  he  could  for  the  cowboys  to  follow. 

True,  the  lawless  spirits  ahead  might  turn  upon 
him,  ready  to  visit  summary  punishment  upon  the 
daring  lad  who  persisted  in  thus  dogging  their  flight. 

All  that  he  took  into  consideration,  but  it  did  not 
change  his  mind  an  iota. 

Of  course,  he  did  not  expect  to  fight  except  if 
driven  into  the  last  ditch,  but  there  were  possibili- 
ties of  effecting  Polly's  escape  that  aroused  great 
hope  in  his  breast. 

The  thing  that  worried  him  most  of  all  was  the 
late  hour. 

Night  would  soon  fall  upon  the  scene. 

True,  there  was  a  moon  that  might  be  of  some 
assistance,  but  Karl,  if  given  his  choice,  would  have 
much  preferred  a  day  chase,  after  which  those  ahead 
might  lie  down,  wearied  with  their  long  ride,  and 
give  him  an  opportunity  to  do  a  little  strategy. 

They  might  escape  him  in  the  night. 

With  dogged  perseverance  he  meant  to  hang  on 
as  long  as  he  could,  risking  even  a  bullet  from  some 
one  among  them  who  might  be  detailed  to  fall  be- 
hind and  make  way  with  a  pursuer  who  threatened 
to  become  troublesome. 

So  the  night  fell. 

He  had  occasional  glimpses  of  the  band,  an3  every 
time  he  counted  them  their  number  was  intact. 

Whether  they  had  discovered  his  pursuit  or  not 
he  could  not  decide.  There  had  been  as  yet  no  evi- 
dence of  such  a  thing,  and  he  used  all  possible  pre- 
cautions to  avoid  it,  sometimes  hovering  back  of  a 
rise  until  they  had  passed  from  sight  in  another  de- 


2io  Where  Karl  Went. 

pression,  the  country  being  wonderfully  well  adapted 
for  just  such  a  system  of  tactics. 

There  was  the  moon,  beaming  above,  and  the 
evening  star  shone  softly  in  the  west. 

Another  phase  of  the  chase  was  opened  up. 

"Guess  I've  got  to  depend  on  my  ears  now,"  he 
muttered ;  "moonshine  is  always  a  bit  muddling,  and 
even  that  won't  hold  out  long." 

He  felt  reasonably  sure  the  desperadoes  would 
not  make  a  halt  for  supper.  They  had  but  one  de- 
sire at  present,  and  this  was  to  place  just  as  much 
ground  as  possible  between  themselves  and  Sunset 
Ranch,  knowing  what  a  flurry  the  disappearance  of 
little  Polly  would  create,  and  how  hot  a  pursuit  must 
be  instituted. 

All  seemed  to  go  well. 

The  chase  led  almost  in  the  teeth  of  a  cool  zephyr 
blowing  out  of  the  north,  so  that  he  was  enabled  to 
catch  an  occasional  thump  of  horses'  hoofs  when 
the  cavalcade  happened  upon  a  patch  of  dry  prairie 
harder  than  usual,  while  those  he  hunted  being  to 
windward  had  no  such  chance  of  detecting  his  near 
presence  by  sound. 

Buckskin  was  a  gallant  horse,  as  had  been  proven 
on  numberless  occasions,  yet  the  pace  began  to  tell 
upon  even  him  as  the  night  drew  on,  with  no  let-up 
in  the  onward  flight. 

He  had  already  covered  many  miles  the  preced- 
ing day,  and  was  hardly  in  a  fit  condition  to  hold 
his  own  with  the  fresh  steeds  ridden  by  Jasper  and 
his  allies. 

"Unless  them  fellers  in  front  call  a  halt  mighty 
soon,"  said  Karl,  "I'll  have  to  drop  out  of  the  race. 
Buckskin's  'bout  done  up." 

He  had  high  hopes  that  they  did  not  suspect  his 
pursuit,  strange  as  this  might  seem,  for  he  felt  sure 
they  would  have  laid  some  sort  of  trap,  by  means  of 


Where  Karl  Went.  211 

which  he  would  be  tripped  up,  had  they  guessed  his 
presence. 

As  good  fortune  would  have  it,  he  heard  the  hard 
gallop  suddenly  break  into  a  walk,  and  knew  that 
what  he  had  long  yearned  to  have  happen  had  come 
to  pass. 

"Whoa,  Buckskin,  boy!"  he  called  out,  softly. 

Then,  pulling  the  only  too  willing  nag  in,  he  al- 
lowed him  to  move  forward  slowly. 

Meanwhile  he  strained  his  vision  for  some  sign 
of  the  kidnappers. 

The  men  were  cold  and  hungry,  and  took  the 
chances  of  discovery — food  and  hot  coffee  they  must 
have  after  lying  out  all  day  and  making  this  long, 
hard  run. 

When  Karl  saw  the  little  glow  of  a  fire  he  re- 
joiced. 

"Buckskin,  my  boy,  we're  in  luck,"  he  whispered 
in  the  ear  of  his  sympathetic  steed.  "This  delay's 
going  to  give  you  a  chance  to  rest  and  pluck  up — 
see?" 

Buckskin  flicked  his  tail  and  rubbed  his  soft  muz- 
zle against  the  cowboy's  hand. 

"Then,  too,"  said  Karl,  "it's  going  to  give  me  a 
chance  to  spy  around  this  camp  and  see  what  these 
fellers  are,  anyway." 

Buckskin  was  too  well  bred  to  whinny  when  there 
was  any  danger  around,  but  he  shook  his  head  sa- 
gaciously, and  Karl  was  satisfied. 

"Then,  best  of  all,"  concluded  the  youngster,  "it'll 
give  the  lot  at  the  camp  time  to  catch  up,  and  every 
minute  is  precious.  And  now,  my  boy,  I'll  fix  you 
up,  and  go  on  a  little  tour." 

With  which  he  proceeded  to  picket  Buckskin, 
marking  the  spot  well,  so  that  he  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  finding  it  again  in  case  he  wanted  the 
broncho  in  a  hurry. 

Then  he  crept  toward  the  camp. 


212  Where  Karl  Went. 

Probably  the  fellows  had  posted  a  vidette,  feel- 
ing uneasy  because  of  the  conditions  that  governed 
their  actions. 

And  that  sentry  would  have  orders  to  shoot  on 
sight  any  suspicious  moving  object  in  the  grass. 

Karl  knew  all  this,  but  he  did  not  intend  that  the 
keen  eyes  of  this  guardian  of  the  camp  should  dis- 
cover a  fellow  of  his  size. 

His  prairie  training  could  be  depended  on  to  carry 
him  through. 

"Why,  even  a  greenhorn  might  crawl  close 
to  the  fire  without  being  found  out,  if  he  wanted  to 
know  what  was  doing,"  Karl  contemptuously  de- 
clared to  himself. 

His  tour  of  investigation  gave  him  all  the  infor- 
mation he  desired. 

Jasper  was  there,  and  Caleb  Cross,  together  with 
a  second  cowboy  who  had  been  chased  off  the  range 
by  Mr.  Kelly  on  account  of  some  mean  work  he  had 
done,  and  who  evidently  cherished  an  ugly  spirit  to- 
ward the  ranchman  ever  since.  The  other  two  Karl 
did  not  appear  to  know,  but,  judging  from  their  evil 
looks,  he  set  them  down  as  bad  men,  equal  to  al- 
most any  deed,  from  holding  up  a  stagecoach  to 
looting  a  poor  widow's  shack  in  search  of  hidden 
treasure. 

And  Polly  was  there! 

His  heart  bled  for  the  girl,  she  looked  so  utterly 
dejected,  holding  her  head  between  her  hands  and 
staring  painfully  into  the  fire. 

Karl  would  have  liked  very  much  to  have  given 
her  some  signal  to  arouse  her  spirits,  and  tell  her  of 
his  presence,  but  he  was  fearful  lest  so  sudden  a 
change  in  her  appearance  might  arouse  the  suspi- 
cions of  her  captors,  and  thus  lead  to  a  search  of  the 
vicinity,  ending  in  his  discovery  and  capture. 

From  the  looks  of  the  fellows,  Karl  knew  what 
sort  of  treatment  he  might  expect  at  their  hands, 


Where  Karl  Went.  213 

and  he  was  grimly  resolved  to  make  a  sturdy  resis- 
tance ere  allowing  them  to  overpower  him. 

Long  he  lay  there  in  the  grass  watching  what 
went  on. 

The  coffee  had  a  pungent  odor  that  was  very  tan- 
talizing to  a  hungry  boy,  and  then  the  meat  they 
cooked  in  a  frying  pan,  bacon  it  seemed  to  be,  still 
further  excited  his  appetite. 

How  long  would  they  stay  here? 

The  folly  of  delay  was  well-known  to  them,  but 
there  was  some  recompense  in  the  fact  that  their 
horses  were  recuperating,  nor  was  a  rest  to  be 
sneered  at  on  their  own  part. 

In  imagination  Karl  could  see  Kelly  and  his  eager 
band  of  cowboys  moving  steadily  along  over  the 
prairie,  following  the  trail  with  that  wonderful  skill 
known  only  to  those  whose  lives  have  always  been 
in  close  sympathy  with  nature. 

He  did  not  forget  to  watch  the  men  closely, 
knowing  how  much  depended  on  it. 

They  were  plainly  uneasy,  being  aware  of  the  fact 
that  they  had  taken  their  lives  in  their  hands  in  thus 
braving  the  ranch  owner. 

Frequently  their  restless  eyes  glanced  this  way 
and  that,  scanning  the  grass  about  the  camp,  as 
though  fearful  lest  it  might  hold  an  enemy. 

Once  Karl  saw  a  pair  of  rat-like  orbs  belonging  to 
Caleb  Cross  fastened  intently  upon  the  spot  where 
he  lay. 

"That  feller's  on  to  me,"  he  muttered. 

Perhaps  some  slight  movement  on  Karl's  part  had 
caught  the  other's  attention. 

Presently  the  man  arose,  stretched  himself  and 
walked  out  of  camp  on  the  opposite  side. 

Karl  was  not  deceived  in  the  least;  he  knew  to  a 
dead  certainty  the  fellow  intended  circling  around 
and  investigating  matters. 

It  would  be  poor  policy  on  his  part  to  remain 


214  Where  Karl  Went. 

there  and  invite  'discovery;  he  at  once  began  to 
back  away,  arranging  the  grass  as  he  went,  so  as  to 
cover  his  tracks  as  much  as  possible. 

"Guess  he'll  have  nothing  to  show  for  his  pains," 
grinned  Karl. 

At  a  safe  distance  the  prairie  boy  awaited  devel- 
opments. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  saw  the  man  searching 
the  grass,  pistol  in  hand,  and  could  chuckle  with  sat- 
isfaction when  Caleb  gave  it  up  as  a  bad  job,  retir- 
ing to  where  the  rest  sat. 

"Lucky  I  didn't  wait,"  commented  Karl.  "If  I 
had — Pist !  All  up  with  me !" 

An  hour  passed. 

It  was  all  too  short  for  Karl,  who  would  have  de- 
tained the  five  worthies  where  they  were  until  dawn 
if  he  were  able. 

He  knew  what  was  up  when  he  saw  Jasper  rise 
from  the  recumbent  position  he  had  taken  and  point 
to  the  moon  far  overhead  and  reaching  down  the 
western  heavens. 

It  was  once  more  forward  toward  the  Bad  Lands, 
where  the  chances  of  giving  any  possible  pursuers 
the  slip  would  be  doubled. 

Karl  had  reason  to  be  downcast,  for  he  had  just 
discovered  a  slight  opportunity  to  strike  a  telling 
blow  for  the  cause,  and,  given  half  an  hour,  might 
have  carried  it  into  execution. 

This  concerned  a  stampede  of  the  stock. 

Could  he  by  any  means  make  away  with  their 
mounts,  the  abductors  of  Polly  must  find  themselves 
in  a  pretty  pickle,  since  it  would  be  impossible  by 
hook  or  crook  to  travel  far  before  the  avenging  cow- 
boys' arrival  on  the  scene. 

The  horses  had  been  hobbled,  and  for  a  time 
stuck  close  to  the  fire,  but  by  degrees  wandered  a 
little  further  away  in  search  of  better  grass. 

It  was  exasperating  that  the  opportunity  came 


Where  Karl  Went. 

just  when  Jasper  decided  it  was  time  to  mount  and 
be  off. 

Grumbling  in  an  undertone  at  the  miserable  luck 
of  the  thing,  Karl  was  forced  of  necessity  to  run 
back  to  where  Buckskin  had  been  left,  so  that  he 
might  be  in  a  condition  to  take  up  the  chase. 

A  disappointment  ten  times  as  big  as  this  was  not 
going  to  disconcert  or  discourage  him — indeed,  his 
temperament  was  such  that  it  really  served  to 
strengthen  his  resolution  to  keep  on  to  the  end. 

Perhaps  Caleb  Cross  would  not  be  able  to  quite 
get  out  of  his  mind  the  fancy  that  he  had  seen  a  face 
back  of  the  grass. 

It  might  make  him  suspicious  and  cause  him  to 
glance  frequently  to  the  rear,  so  that  he  would  be  in 
a  position  to  discover  the  boy  should  the  conditions 
favor  his  being  outlined  on  a  rise  against  the  sky. 

This  was  just  what  did  happen. 

Those  in  advance,  of  course,  did  not  know  who 
their  indefatigable  pursuer  was,  but  took  immediate 
pains  to  baffle  his  design. 

There  were  various  ways  to  do  this,  and  they  neg- 
lected the  easiest,  which  was  for  one  of  them  to  slip 
down,  hide  in  the  grass,  and  shoot  the  horseman  as 
he  came  up. 

Karl  was  compelled  to  keep  so  far  in  the  rear  that 
he  was  unaware  of  the  trick  that  was  being  played 
until  an  opportunity  came  to  sight  those  he  followed. 

To  his  intense  dismay,  not  to  say  disgust,  he  dis- 
covered them  to  be  but  three  in  number,  the  other 
couple,  together  with  the  girl,  had  utterly  vanished 
from  the  scene. 

Karl  knew  there  was  no  necromancy  about  the  af- 
fair; he  had  simply  been  outwitted  that  was  all,  be- 
ing utterly  unaware  as  to  when  and  where  the  divi- 
sion had  taken  place. 

Naturally,  he  had  followed  the  noisy  party,  leav- 
ing the  others  to  slip  away  unmolested. 


216  Where  Karl  Went. 

Chagrin  gave  him  a  bad  five  minutes  of  it,  during 
which  he  wrestled  with  the  problem. 

It  was  now  utterly  out  of  the  question  that  he 
could  retrace  his  steps  and  take  up  the  other  trail, 
since  he  had  no  knowledge  whatever  as  to  where  the 
separation  had  occurred. 

The  only  thing  that  remained  was  to  continue  af- 
ter the  trio  of  rascals. 

Surely  they  would  sooner  or  later  all  come  to- 
gether again,  so  that  if  he  could  keep  on  their  track 
sufficiently  long  he  was  bound  to  again  look  upon 
Polly's  sweet  face. 

That  determined  him. 

Besides,  the  odds  were  not  so  tremendous  now, 
and  if  it  came  to  a  fight  he  might  be  able  to  hold  up 
the  honor  of  X  bar  X. 

He  kept  poor  Buckskin  at  it  everlastingly,  and  the 
game  little  beast  stuck  to  his  colors. 

The  moon  went  down. 

Here  came  an  interval  of  almost  two  hours  ere 
dawn,  and  it  was  now  Karl  feared  lest  he  be  left  in 
the  lurch. 

If  the  fellows  would  only  draw  rein  anil  take  a 
rest;  but  they  seemed  determined  to  lead  him  a 
dance  he  would  never  forget,  perhaps  kill  poor 
Buckskin  in  the  bargain. 

The  men  he  followed  were  no  novices  at  this  sort 
of  business,  and  with  the  darkness  to  aid  them,  could 
find  ample  means  of  slipping  away  in  a  new  direc- 
tion. 

Twice  Karl's  sagacity  saved  him  from  being  left 
at  the  post,  but  it  was  practiced  once  too  often,  and 
the  Sunset  Ranch  outfit  went  down  to  defeat. 

At  least,  he  felt  that  he  had  striven  to  the  last,  and 
his  ship  had  sunk  with  colors  flying. 

When  Karl  drew  his  weary  horse  up,  and,  sitting 
in  the  saddle,  strove  in  vain  to  hear  some  sound  that 


Where  Karl  Went.  217 

.would  indicate  the  direction  whence  his  quarry  had 
escaped,  he  felt  exceedingly  dejected. 
Wf  Hope  had  sustained  him  through  all  the  hours  of 
this  terrible  chase. 

And  now  even  that  was  gone. 

'All  had  been  in  vain. 

.Those  he  had  chased  would  come  together  again 
at  some  prearranged  rendezvous  far  up  in  the 
broken  country,  where  desperadoes  always  found  a 
retreat,  and  Jasper  could  go  where  he  pleased  with 
poor  little  Polly. 

Never  in  all  his  life  had  defeat  so  galled  the 
prairie-born  boy. 

He  had  some  wisdom  left,  however,  and  knew  it 
was  folly  to  go  roaming  about  in  search  of  these 
human  Jack-o'-lanterns,  who  might  be  here,  there  or 
anywhere. 

The  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  camp  on  the 
spot  until  daylight  allowed  him  to  see  the  trail,  and 
then  persistently  follow  on,  no  matter  where  it  led. 

Buckskin  was  glad,  at  least,  of  a  respite,  and  Karl 
himself  needed  rest. 

Without  a  bite  of  food  he  dropped  upon  the 
prairie,  and,  despite  the  worry  that  naturally  filled 
his  mind,  was  quickly  in  the  Land  of  Nod,  reveling 
in  the  slumber  of  exhaustion. 

It  was  broad  day  when  he  awoke,  somewhat  re- 
freshed; the  eastern  heavens  gave  token  of  the  day 
king's  coming,  and  all  nature  seemed  bright  and 
cheerful. 

A  slight  hoar  frost  was  on  the  grass  blades,  tell- 
ing how  keen  the  air  had  become  in  the  last  hour 
before  dawn. 

Karl  felt  somewhat  stiff  from  his  work  and  the 
exposure;  but  that  was  a  mere  trifle,  hardly  worth 
mentioning  to  one  who,  like  himself,  had  served  his 
time  as  night  wrangler  when  the  storm  raged  over 
the  range,  and  who  had  fought  through  many  a 


218  Where  Karl  Went. 

blizzard  to  save  the  imperiled  cattle  placed  in  his 
charge. 

His  first  act  was  to  top  the  nearest  rise  and  sweep 
the  surrounding  prairie  with  eager  eyes. 

Disappointment  followed,  for,  while  a  few  ante- 
lopes were  seen  here  and  there,  not  a  sign  of  a  hu- 
man being  came  under  his  observation. 

Nothing  remained  but  the  trail. 

Could  he  ever  find  that? 

First  of  all  he  marked  the  spot  where  he  ha3  slept, 
so  that  he  might  not  wander  away;  then  a  sys- 
tematic search  was  commenced,  beginning  in  the 
quarter  he  considered  it  most  likely  he  would  find 
traces  of  the  trio. 

It  took  him  all  of  twenty  minutes  to  succeed,  and 
he  was  almost  wretched  with  suspense  and  doubt 
when  finally  he  came  upon  the  trail. 

Without  further  delay  he  made  a  start. 

Evidently  the  boy  possessed  all  the  elements  that 
go  to  make  up  a  good  trailer — caution,  dogged  per- 
severance and  a  quick  eye. 

At  the  same  time  he  deplored  the  great  start 
gained  by  the  fugitives,  and  also  the  fact  that,  try 
as  he  would,  the  chances  were  they  were  gaining  on 
him  constantly. 

He  was  hungry  enough  to  eat  any  old  thing  with- 
out question,  nor  could  he  much  longer  stand  the 
strain. 

Two  hours  after  sunrise  he  sighted  a  single  horse- 
man ahead,  riding  in  such  a  way  as  to  cross  his  path. 

The  bold  lad  who  had  followed  five  determined 
rascals  mile  after  mile  was  not  apt  to  turn  aside  on 
account  of  a  lone  rider,  even  if  he  was  on  the  border 
of  that  country  that  had  long  served  as  a  hiding 
place  and  nest  for  the  vipers  who  had  been  scourged 
out  of  the  border  settlements. 

So  Karl  never  swerved  an  inch,  but  kept  along  the 
trail  of  the  three  horses. 


Where  Karl  Went.  219 

Perhaps  he  took  a  wise  precaution  to  loosen  the 
little  gun  in  its  case,  so  that  it  might  be  ready  for  a 
hurry  call  Your  cowboy  is  always  very  particular 
about  speed  when  it  counts  so  much  to  get  the  drop 
on  a  fellow  supposed  to  be  equally  expert  in  hand- 
ling his  firearms. 

As  he  drew  nearer  he  discovered  that  the  lone 
horseman  was  no  outlaw  or  cowboy,  but  an  Indian. 

Then  something  familiar  about  his  get-up  caught 
Karl's  eye;  he  looked  closer,  holding  his  breath  for 
eagerness,  and  then  gave  a  shrill  yell  of  actual  de- 
light. 

For  it  was  no  other  than  Little  Buckshot,  son  of  a 
great  chief,  whom  he  had  defeated  in  the  horse  race 
and  later  on  saved  in  the  blizzard. 

This  was  rare  luck,  indeed,  that  these  two  of  all 
boys  should  come  together  at  this  exact  place  on  the 
almost  limitless  prairie. 

Such  things  have  happened  in  most  lives,  as 
though  ordered  by  some  special  decree  of  fortune. 

Karl  was  delighted  to  see  the  young  Sioux.  It 
had  been  a  dreary  task,  this  tracking  the  three  horse- 
men all  alone,  and  he  welcomed  the  advent  of  one 
upon  whom  he  could  place  so  great  dependence  as 
Little  Buckshot. 

"How!"  cried  the  Indian,  as  they  drew  rein. 

Karl  reached  for  his  hand. 

"I'm  right  down  glad  to  see  you,  Little  Buckshot. 
Tell  me,  haven't  you  got  anything  to  eat?  I'm  'bout 
starved  and  can't  stop  to  shoot  game." 

"Some  pemmican  mebbe — not  much — chew  hard, 
taste  good,  ugh,"  replied  the  other,  Indian-like, 
showing  no  desire  to  ask  questions,  though  he  must 
have  been  devoured  with  curiosity  to  know  why  a 
thoroughbred  like  Karl  should  go  hungry  on  the 
prairie  with  game  so  plentiful,  and  he  so  great  a 
Nimrod. 

While  he  munched  Karl  began  to  explain. 


220  Where  Karl  Went. 

"See  that  trail  yonder?" 

"Um,  me  see.  Two,  three  horse.  White  men 
ride  'em,  you  bet,"  grunted  the  other. 

How  he  could  jump  to  this  conclusion  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment  Karl  did  not  ask.  He  knew  there 
were  many  signs  as  legible  to  the  trained  eye  of  an 
Indian  as  print  would  be  to  an  educated  scholar. 

"Yes,  three  bad  white  men.  There  were  five. 
They  stole  Polly,  the  girl  who  gave  you  that  blanket 
you  have  on  your  horse." 

The  Indian  frowned. 

Polly  had  quite  touched  his  heart  by  her  gentle 
manner,  her  sunny  disposition  and  laughing  eyes. 

By  the  way  he  gripped  the  repeating  gun  Cuth- 
bert  had  presented  him  with,  it  was  evident  that  Lit- 
tle Buckshot  deemed  this  abduction  a  personal  af- 
fair, and  that  Karl  could  count  on  his  assistance. 

The  story  was  soon  told. 

Though  still  hardly  more  than  a  boy,  he  would  be 
a  chief  some  day,  and  knew  how  to  carry  himself 
with  becoming  dignity. 

"Trail  no  good;  lose  um  in  the  hills.  Take  too 
much  time,  mebbe.  Little  Buckshot  know  where 
find  thieves.  Trust  all  to  him,  and  we  come  out 
good.  Straight  as  crow  fly — two  days  p'raps.  You 
go  with  me,  Karl?" 

"You  bet  I  will,  as  fast  as  my  poor  tired  nag  can 
carry  me.  But  be  sure  you're  right.  A  mistake 
might  ruin  us  all." 

"No  mistake — you  see.  Bet  rifle  me  take  you 
where  girl  Polly  am.  No  fear." 

The  confident  tone  in  which  this  was  spoken  in- 
spired Karl  anew. 

Besides,  that  ancient  strip  of  pemmican  tasted 
amazingly  good,  and  renewed  his  flagging  energies 
like  magic. 

"Well,  this  is  what  I  call  luck,  anyway.  Two  can 
do  it  better  than  one,  and  besides,  somewhere  over 


Where  Karl  Went.  221 

yonder  there's  a  band  of  keen-eyed  cowboys  moving 
up,  eager  to  stretch  hemp  with  the  gang.  Take 
your  bearings,  then,  and  lead  off,  Indian." 

The  Sioux  lad  looked  at  him  affectionately. 

"Little  Buckshot  never  forget  that  night  in  snow. 
Ugh !  No  fail,  you  see.  Two  days,  no  more,  then 
we  find  urn  Good.  You  come,  this  time  me  lead." 

And  when  once  more  Karl  urged  his  bronco  for- 
ward it  was  with  a  satisfaction  beyond  expression, 
for  his  appetite  had  in  a  measure  been  appeased,  and 
he  was  no  longer  single-handed  in  the  dangerous 
game. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  RAID  ON   THE  BAD  LANDS. 

Little  Buckshot  was  as  good  as  his  word. 

The  second  day  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the 
Bad  Lands,  and  moving  slowly  forward,  since  they 
must  be  near  the  headquarters  of  the  lawless  spirits 
into  whose  power  poor  Polly  had  fallen. 

So  accurate  had  been  the  predictions  of  this  dusky 
ally  with  whom  Karl  was  now  associated  that  on  this 
second  day  they  actually  came  upon  a  trail  of  six 
ponies  leading  in  the  same  direction  whence  they 
themselves  were  bound;  and  among  the  confused 
tracks  the  keen-eyed  prairie  boy  immediately  picked 
out  the  hoof  prints  of  Polly's  little  nag. 

Later  on  they  found  where  this  animal  and  one 
other  had  started  off  at  right  angles  from  the  main 
bunch. 

Evidently  Jasper  and  his  charge  wished  to  part 
company  with  the  choice  companions  who  had  thus 
far  been  a  bulwark  of  strength  to  the  daring  cause 
he  represented. 

And  yet  Karl  was  not  greatly  surprised  when  a 
few  hundred  yards  further  on  they  once  more  dis- 
covered the  hoofprints  of  the  outlaws. 

The  young  Sioux  explained  the  seeming  mystery 
in  his  laconic,  matter-of-fact  way. 

"Ugh!  He  think  him  go  away  with  um  Polly — 
bime-by  others  change  mind,  follow  up  and  no  let 
go.  How!" 

Karl  could  guess  the  secret  of  those  confused 
tracks,  and  it  depressed  his  spirits. 

The  lawless  fellows,  after  taking  Jasper's  money 
for  lending  assistance  had  conceived  a  sudden  idea 
that  possibly  the  girl  might  be  worth  her  weight  in 


The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands.        223 

gold  to  them  if  they  kept  her  a  prisoner.  Some 
careless  boast  on  the  part  of  the  kidnapper  must 
have  given  them  a  clew  which  led  to  this  result. 

At  any  rate,  it  was  a  keen  disappointment  to  our 
Karl,  who,  when  he  found  there  might  be  only  old 
Jasper  to  deal  with  had  indulged  in  high  hopes  of 
coping  with  the  emergency,  and  now  saw  these  am- 
bitions telescoped.  This  was  his  first  trip  to  the 
Bad  Lands.  As  a  usual  thing  honest  men  avoided 
this  noted  section  of  the  country. 

It  held  forth  little  inducements  for  a  visit,  and 
there  must  always  be  a  certain  amount  of  danger 
connected  with  such  a  journey,  since  it  afforded  a 
secure  asylum  for  the  desperate  characters  who  had 
been  driven  out  of  the  border  settlements  and  min- 
ing camps,  not  to  say  occasional  Indians  away  from 
their  reservations  and  looking  for  trouble. 

Little  Buckshot  had  been  here  when  upon  some  of 
the  forays  in  which  he  had  indulged  previous  to  his 
change  of  heart  toward  the  palefaces,  brought  about 
by  his  rescue  in  the  blizzard  by  the  two  white  boys. 

He  knew  the  wild  country  well. 

Even  Old  Sile  could  hardly  have  given  him  points 
in  this  connection. 

The  day  was  almost  spent. 

They  were  making  slow  progress,  for  several  good 
reasons.  In  the  first  place,  their  ponies  had  covered 
many  miles  since  early  dawn,  and  really  needed  a 
chance  to  recuperate;  then,  again,  according  to  the 
Indian,  they  had  now  drawn  near  their  journey's  end 
and  would  have  to  exercise  considerable  caution  lest 
their  presence  become  known  in  the  stronghold  of 
the  outcasts,  a  calamity  that  could  not  but  work  to 
their  disadvantage. 

"Watch  trail,"  said  Little  Buckshot,  suddenly. 

Karl  peered  down  at  the  tracks. 

"Nothing  new  here,"  he  said. 

"No  mean  that.     Keep  tally.     Un'stand?" 


224   The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands. 

"Oh,  yes;  you  want  me  to  notice  the  trail  as  we  go 
along." 

The  Indian  nodded. 

"We  come  Polly  p'rhaps.  Shoot  me — you  get 
'way.  Where?  Not  know.  See?" 

"That's  right,  Buckshot,"  exclaimed  Karl. 
"  'Twould  be  a  mighty  bad  business  for  me  if  any- 
thing was  to  happen  to  you;  but  it'd  be  kinder 
harder  on  my  luck  if  I  was  to  rescue  Polly  and  then 
not  know  the  way  back  to  home." 

"Watch  trail,"  repeated  the  Indian,  laying  his 
finger  on  his  lips.  „£ 

And  together  they  moved  on  in  silence. 

Karl  shuddered  at  the  prospect  around  him;  it 
was  all  so  vastly  different  from  the  grassy  plains 
where  life  abounded  and  where  it  seemed  so  easy  to 
breathe.  Here  gloomy  rocks  surrounded  them  and 
only  ghostly  buzzards  or  skulking,  piratical  coyotes 
could  be  seen.  It  was  the  land  of  death,  avoided  by 
every  animal  worthy  of  the  name  of  game,  a  fitting 
abode  for  evil  spirits  who  had  cheated  the  border 
Judge  Lynch  of  his  dues,  a  place  of  refuge  whence 
they  could  sally  forth  at  intervals  to  pounce  upon 
some  unlucky  caravan  and  secure  plunder. 

Karl  believed  it  would  give  him  the  nightmare, 
and  that  it  must  be  a  long  time  ere  he  could  shake 
off  the  chill  which  these  dreary  surroundings  cast 
upon  his  usually  buoyant  spirits. 

At  the  same  time  there  was  not  the  slightest 
change  in  his  determination. 

He  was  ready  to  undertake  any  risk,  however 
great,  in  order  to  accomplish  the  task  of  rescuing 
Polly. 

Not  once  did  he  consider  the  romantic  side  of  the 
business.  All  he  had  in  mind  was  that  Polly  was 
here  against  her  will,  and  her  appearance  indicated 
how  unhappy  she  felt. 

Karl  cared  to  know  nothing  further. 


The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands.        225 

He  realized  the  risk  full  well. 

These  choice  spirits  counted  a  human  life  of  lit- 
tle moment  when  it  interfered  with  any  plan  or 
pleasure  they  had  in  view. 

No  doubt  they  would  even  take  delight  in  sacri- 
ficing such  a  chap  as  himself  if  caught  in  the  act  of 
spying  upon  their  community. 

While  the  two  strange  friends  jogged  along  over 
these  leagues  of  space  they  had  held  occasional  brief 
conversations  upon  the  subject  that  was  of  especial 
moment  to  them. 

Karl  found  the  Indian  a  keen  reasoner.  His  na- 
tive wit,  aided  by  severe  experience,  combined  to 
make  him  see  matters  clearly  when  grave  peril  over- 
shadowed the  future. 

Of  course  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  all  this 
while  a  pack  of  eager-eyed  and  reckless  cowboys 
must  be  following  the  trail,  and  would,  sooner  or 
later,  bring  up  at  the  outlaw  rendezvous. 

If  this  were  the  case  the  two  boys  had  better  post- 
pone their  attack,  while  picking  wp  all  the  informa- 
tion possible,  until  a  junction  with  the  cow  punch- 
ers could  be  effected. 

Little  Buckshot  was  so  grave  and  confident  that 
he  inspired  Karl  with  some  of  his  spirit,  and  the  lat- 
ter anxiously  awaited  the  hour  when  they  could  put 
their  plans  into  operation. 

So  the  night  found  them,  still  moving  on,  their 
weary  journey  near  its  end. 

The  Indian  led  his  companion  to  a  spot  where  they 
could  picket  their  ponies. 

It  seemed  especially  designed  for  such  a  purpose, 
being  a  little  cul  de  sac  on  one  side  of  the  trail,  sur- 
rounded by  great  bowlders,  yet  offering  fair  pas- 
turage. 

Less  than  a  mile  lay  between  them  and  the  outlaw 
camp. 

"We  stay  here,"  said  the  Indian.     "Sleep  with 


226        The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands. 

eyes  open.  Un'stand?  Morning  start — save  Polly 
— no  shoot  if  can  help." 

"I  don't  know,"  commented  Karl,  "I'm  for  knock- 
ing that  old  rascal,  Jasper  what's  his  name,  on  the 
head." 

"No  wise.  Too  many.  They  kill  us.  Then 
poor  Polly." 

And  the  expression  on  the  brown  face  made  Karl 
stretch  out  his  hand  impulsively. 

"Buckshot,"  he  said,  "you're  the  best  Indian  't 
ever  lived.  I'm  not  going  to  try  to  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  you  for  doing  this.  I  jest  couldn't  do  it. 
But  I'm  grateful,  Buckshot." 

And  he  shook  the  brown  hand  with  a  sincerity  that 
left  no  room  for  doubt. 

Then  they  flung  themselves  down  on  the  sparse 
grass,  and  lying  there  with  the  stars  above  and  dead 
silence  around,  save  for  the  weird  sighing  of  the 
night  wind  among  the  rocks,  the  two  boys  chewed 
pemmican  and  indulged  in  serious  reflections. 

When  the  time  was  up,  according  to  the  thinking 
of  the  Indian,  he  arose  to  his  feet  with  a  grunt. 

Karl  eagerly  followed  his  example,  anxious  to 
have  a  first  view  of  this  queer  camp  or  settlement  of 
castaways  in  the  Bad  Lands. 

He  had  heard  many  stories  about  it  from  Old 
Sile  and  others  whom  some  freak  of  fortune  had 
thrown  up  against  the  evil  spirits  haunting  this  re- 
gion, and  up  to  now  such  a  thought  as  his  ever  be- 
holding the  place  had  never  entered  Karl's  mind. 

These  yarns,  sometimes  embellished  to  a  great  ex- 
tent by  the  love  for  magnifying  adventures,  had  sur- 
rounded the  place  with  an  interest  and  mystery  even 
beyond  what  it  might  naturally  present. 

Perhaps  something  was  due  to  the  manner  in 
which  the  Indian  had  led  through  the  rugged  coun- 
try, avoiding  the  regular  trail,  where  a  vidette  might 


The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands.        227 

have  been  run  across ;  but,  at  any  rate,  they  experi- 
enced no  difficulty  in  advancing. 

Once  Little  Buckshot  came  to  a  sudden  pause, 
with  his  hand  on  Karl's  arm. 

"Hist !"  he  whispered.  "Me  lead.  Follow  close ; 
no  lose  me." 

Then  he  began  to  make  a  little  detour,  with  Karl 
in  his  wake. 

There  was  no  mystery  about  the  matter  to  Karl, 
since  his  ears  had  also  detected  the  sudden  locust- 
like  whirr  of  a  rattlesnake's  warning. 

It  seemed,  indeed,  a  fit  resort  for  this  venomous 
reptile,  enemy  of  man  and  beast,  with  carrion  crows, 
buzzards  and  coyotes  for  company. 

Now  lights  gleamed  ahead,  coming  from  camp- 
fires,  a  strange  enough  spectacle  amid  such  bleak 
and  gloomy  surroundings. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  boys  had  crawled  close 
enough  to  the  settlement  to  look  down  with  won- 
der and  surprise  on  the  strange  scene. 

There  were  some  cabins,  horses  in  a  corral,  and  a 
prairie  schooner  or  two,  possibly  the  fruits  of  for- 
mer raids. 

Women  and  children  were  to  be  seen,  showing 
that  some  of  the  lazy,  desperate  spirits  of  the  camp 
were  men  of  families,  but,  as  might  have  been  ex- 
pected, these  females  were  frowsy-headed  and  slat- 
ternly dressed,  fit  companions  for  the  rough  ele- 
ments gathered  in  this  strange  community,  bound 
together  simply  by  their  fear  and  hatred  of  the  law. 

Supper  was  being  cooked. 

Karl  had  memories  of  other  scenes,  and  had  Cuth- 
bert  been  present  he  might  have  been  reminded  of 
the  Sioux  village,  though  this  place  and  its  denizens 
lacked  most  of  the  picturesque  effects  that  made  that 
other  attractive. 

"There's  Polly!"  cried  Karl,  at  length. 

The  Indian  was  already  watching  her. 


228        The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands. 

Karl  looked  keenly  at  her  for  a  minute,  then  he 
said: 

"Don't  look  overmuch  like  a  prisoner,  does  she, 
Buckshot?" 

"Me  think  she  wise  gal,"  said  the  Indian. 

"What,  for  making  the  best  of  it?  I  guess  you're 
right.  She's  not  sitting  there  moping  or  crying,  as 
most  any  girl  might.  Reckon,  Buckshot,  you've 
got  the  proper  idea.  She's  too  much  sense  to  waste 
time  on  that  kind  of  thing." 

"Berry  wise  gal,"  repeated  the  Indian,  solemnly. 

When  Karl  first  discovered  the  little  maiden  she 
was  busily  engaged  over  a  fire,  cooking  something 
for  her  uncle's  supper,  and  the  dexterous  manner  in 
which  she  handled  a  frying  pan  over  an  open  blaze 
was  positive  proof  that  she  had  done  this  same  thing 
many  times  before  when  they  two  were  nomads, 
drifting  where  fortune  seemed  to  beckon. 

Karl  felt  easier. 

She  was  not  injured,  then,  and  the  game  could 
wait  a  while  until  reinforcements  arrived. 

New  courage  took  root  in  his  heart. 

The  male  members  of  this  socialistic  community 
were  of  various  stripes  and  patterns,  from  the  cow- 
boy and  miner,  down  to  the  dark-faced  Mexican  with 
his  fiercely-pointed  mustache,  his  gold-braid  em- 
broidered velvet  jacket,  silver-button  decorated 
trousers  and  broad  sombrero. 

Fear  of  justice  makes  strange  bedfellows,  and 
among  these  rougher  elements  Karl  discovered  a 
couple  of  sleek-looking  fellows,  one  of  whom  had  a 
clerical  and  the  other  a  legal  aspect. 

The  boys  watched  all  that  went  on  with  intense 
interest. 

That  they  should  be  in  such  close  touch  with  the 
settlement  that  had  so  long  been  the  dread  of  the 
border,  defying  attack,  and  offering  a  ready  refuge 
to  every  scoundrel  fleeing  from  the  reward  of  his 


The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands.        229 

misdeeds,  was  something  of  more  than  average  im- 
portance, something  of  which  they  might  well  boast 
in  future  days,  when  telling,  around  the  peaceful 
camp-fire,  the  story  of  their  adventurous  quest. 

It  was  of  prime  importance  that  they  learn  all 
about  the  settlement,  so  that  when  the  hour  for 
business  arrived  they  might  be  prepared  to  strike 
with  telling  effect. 

The  first  and  most  vital  point  was  to  mark  the 
tepee,  or  hut,  in  which  Polly  was  to  find  shelter. 

Then  the  corral  engaged  their  attention,  as  it  con- 
tained many  horses  that  had,  from  time  to  time, 
been  stolen  from  the  various  ranches,  and  such  a 
fact  necessarily  appealed  to  the  cowboy  spirit  that 
predominated  in  Karl. 

There  was  another  reason  why  they  should  desire 
to  know  the  ins  and  outs  of  that  stockade;  should 
no  assistance  arrive,  and  the  work  of  rescue  be 
thrown  entirely  upon  their  young  shoulders,  it 
might  become  necessary  for  them  to  cover  their 
flight  as  Cuthbert  should  have  done  when  he  quitted 
the  Sioux  village,  by  a  general  stampede  of  all  the 
animals  connected  with  the  settlement,  which  would 
delay  pursuit  and  give  the  fugitives  a  better  chance 
of  getting  away. 

This  survey  might  be  the  more  easily  accom- 
plished when  the  hour  grew  later,  and  sleep  had 
overcome  the  now  noisy  denizens  of  the  camp. 

So  they  quietly  crept  away,  sought  a  retired  nook 
and  took  a  much-needed  nap  themselves. 

The  Indian  awoke  his  companion. 

Karl  glanced  up  at  the  moon. 

"Why,  it  must  be  long  after  midnight!"  he  ex- 
claimed, "and  yet  I  can't  believe  I've  slept  more 
than  a  few  minutes." 

But,  according  to  Buckshot,  it  was  time  they  were 
on  the  jump  if  they  hoped  to  accomplish  any  scout- 
ing that  night. 


230   The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands. 

Little  Buckshot  pointed  to  clouds  that  were  roll- 
ing up  from  the  horizon. 

"Mebbe  heap  rain;  we  get  wet;  no  care  if  bad 
white  men  keep  in  tepee.  Good.  You  come,  Karl ; 
soon  see  how  corral  made.  We  make  much 
s'prise,  when  let  horses  go,  sometime  p'raps." 

That  was  how  the  dusky  aborigine  put  it  directly. 
Like  all  of  his  race  he  was  sparing  of  his  words,  and 
always  hewed  close  to  the  line. 

Karl  understood  it  well  enough. 

What  was  a  ducking  to  a  cowboy,  if  the  rain 
promised  to  make  their  task  easier  and  lessened  the 
chances  of  discovery? 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  set- 
tlement the  moon  was  obscured,  and  a  state  of 
semi-darkness  fell  upon  the  land. 

Thus  it  was  well  they  had  made  a  careful  survey 
of  the  place  while  the  opportunity  lasted,  since  it 
might  prove  to  their  advantage  now. 

The  corral  was  partly  natural,  though  human 
hands  had  heaped  up  one  line  of  great  rocks  that 
shut  the  animals  in. 

Daily  they  had  to  be  taken  to  pasturage  in  some 
nearby  oasis  in  this  desert. 

The  gate  was  a  sturdy,  though  rude  affair,  and 
was  never  kept  locked  in  any  way,  as  not  a  soul  ever 
dreamed  of  danger  menacing  their  live  stock  here. 

After  a  thorough  examination,  the  boys  were  sat- 
isfied they  could  accomplish  the  task  of  turning  the 
horses  out;  it  would  only  require  an  hour's  work 
to  remove  that  portion  of  the  wall  most  distant  from 
the  settlement,  through  which  breach  the  stampede 
could  be  effected. 

As  yet  the  rain  had  not  descended,  and,  feeling 
that  they  could  do  no  more  in  this  quarter  until  the 
coming  of  another  night,  they  decided  to  withdraw 
quietly. 

They  had  no  particular  anxiety  in  connection  with 


The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands.        231 

their  mounts,  for  the  animals  could  secure  enough 
food,  and  there  was  only  a  remote  chance  of  their 
being-  discovered  by  some  stroller  from  the  village. 

There  was  now  no  necessity  for  their  remaining 
in  the  open  to  accept  a  wetting  when  the  rain  came ; 
even  such  toughened  characters  as  cowboys,  if  given 
a  choice,  prefer  a  dry  jacket. 

"Cave.  Ha,  good!"  whispered  the  Indian,  pat- 
ting his  dusky  body.  Me  'member.  Me  take 
you.  Not  far.  Wait  there — to-morrow  night  we 
come  'gain.  Then — ugh!" 

"Well,  then,"  cried  Karl,  joyfully,  "if  this  cave's 
around,  by  all  means " 

But  already  the  Indian  was  leading  the  way  to  the 
underground  retreat,  and  Karl  had  his  work  cut  out 
to  follow  his  long-legged  companion. 

It  was  already  sprinkling,  with  a  promise  of  a 
more  serious  downfall  shortly,  so  that  the  tramp  to 
the  cave  was  lively  enough. 

Karl  had  spent  many  a  night  in  shack  and  dugout, 
so  that  this  prospect  was  not  of  a  nature  to  give 
him  the  least  concern — indeed,  too  many  times  had 
he  lain  with  only  a  blanket  as  protection  against  a 
pelting  rain,  so  that  shelter  of  any  sort  was  a  bo- 
nanza in  his  eyes. 

At  last  the  young  brave  drew  Karl  into  what 
seemed  a  crack  or  fissure  in  the  rocky  wall. 

It  was  none  too  soon,  as  the  big  drops  had  in- 
creased, and  now  came  down  with  a  merry  tune  that 
pleased  Karl  better  because  he  could  laugh  at  its  fu- 
tile efforts  to  reach  them. 

Little  Buckshot  had  stooped  'down. 

"Hole  small — have  to  crawl,  Karl — but  we  find 
um  big  lodge,  you  see." 

And  Karl  kept  after  him,  quite  satisfied  that  in 
meeting  the  Indian  he  had  struck  the  best  bit  of 
luck  imaginable. 

Sure    enough,    the    crooked   passage    did    grow 


232        The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands. 

larger,  an'd  presently  Karl  was  possessed  of  the  con- 
viction that  they  had  entered  a  chamber  of  some 
sort. 

In  anticipation  of  this,  the  Sioux  had  picked  up 
some  bits  of  wood  while  en  route,  although  dead 
branches  of  trees  were  scarce  enough  in  this  deso- 
late region,  where  vegetation  seemed  to  grow  only 
under  protest,  and  then  of  a  stunted  and  gnarled  va- 
riety. 

Karl  had  hold  of  the  Indian's  heel. 

He  figured  that  they  had  passed  some  yards  into 
the  chamber,  and  was  wondering  why  his  companion 
did  not  speak  or  make  a  move  toward  gaining  his 
feet,  when  a  low  growl  reached  his  ear  that  sent  a 
cold  chill  through  his  heart,  since  he  realized  on  the 
instant  that  they  had,  in  thus  entering  the  hole  in  the 
wall,  invaded  a  wild  beast's  den. 

Whether  the  animal  were  wolf,  panther  or  big 
grizzly  bear  could  only  be  guessed,  but  each  possi- 
bility had  lurking  in  it  all  the  chances  of  desperate 
adventure  the  boldest  spirit  could  wish. 

Little  Buckshot  no  longer  advanced. 

The  growl  came  from  one  side,  and  doubtless  his 
head  was  immediately  turned  in  that  quarter. 

Karl  heard  him  give  a  grunt. 

There  was  no  exclamation  of  surprise,  no  expres- 
sion of  alarm.  These  things  were  not  suited  to  a 
young  warrior  who  had  proven  his  right  to  wear 
the  war  feather  by  means  of  the  rigid  methods  of 
his  tribe,  whereby  his  endurance  and  power  to 
stand  acute  pain  had  been  thoroughly  tested. 

"What  is  it?"  whispered  Karl,  fumbling  for  his 
gun  in  true  cowboy  fashion ;  for  that  weapon  is  the 
prairie  rover's  stay  in  almost  every  time  of  trouble. 

"Me  see  um  eyes.  Wait;  can  soon  tell.  Ugh! 
him  bear,  I  think,"  came  the  reply,  with  no  quaver 
in  the  voice. 


The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands.        233 

"A  grizzly,  no  doubt.  Shall  we  get  out?"  asked 
Karl,  not  relishing  the  prospect. 

In  his  mind  a  fight  with  old  Ephraim  at  close 
quarters  was  bad  enough  in  the  daytime,  when  there 
were  chances  to  operate  his  gun  successfully;  but 
the  same  engagement  in  the  darkness  of  an  un- 
known cavern — why,  it  made  his  flesh  creep  to  even 
think  of  it. 

"Mebbe  can  find  hole  out;  mebbe  not.  Think 
best  fight,"  came  the  reply. 

It  was  the  ambitious  soul  of  a  warrior,  eager  to 
win  fresh  laurels,  that  spoke. 

No  doubt,  Little  Buckshot  was  always  ready,  after 
the  manner  of  his  kind,  to  accept  considerable 
chances  in  an  affair  of  this  sort,  having  as  an  incen- 
tive the  great  glory  that  would  be  his  portion  could 
he  but  secure  a  necklace  of  grizzly  bear  claws  with 
which  to  adorn  his  person. 

Such  a  coveted  trophy  is  worn  by  but  few,  and 
stamps  the  owner  as  a  renowned  hunter,  utterly 
fearless  in  the  chase,  and  worthy  of  all  honor  among 
his  fellows. 

Karl  was  free  to  confess  that  had  he  been  given 
his  choice  he  would  much  rather  have  decamped, 
and  allowed  the  growling  beast  full  liberty  to  oc- 
cupy his  den.  Even  a  wet  jacket  might  not  be  so 
bad  when  compared  to  torn,  lacerated  flesh  in  a  des- 
perate conflict  with  this  most  terrible  "old  man  of 
the  mountains." 

But  there  was  the  Indian,  quite  undaunted,  and 
actually  welcoming  the  threatening  danger  as 
though  it  fulfilled  a  dream  in  which  he  had  indulged. 
No  true  cowboy  could  allow  a  redskin  to  outdo  him 
in  daring;  he  would  never  respect  himself  again  if 
this  occurred. 

So,  crushing  this  desire  to  give  Eph.  a  wide  berth, 
and  leave  him  undisputed  monarch  of  the  cave,  he 


234   The  Raid  on  the  Bad  Lands. 

drew  alongside  the  crouching  Indian  and  whispered 
in  his  ear : 

"If  we  have  to  fight,  let's  go  at  the  business  in  a 
common-sense  way.  We  must  have  a  light  first  of 
all." 

"Good!  Karl,  you  know.  Heap  wood  here; 
take  some,  make  fire  mebbe.  Me  watch." 

And  the  only  weapon  he  held  in  his  hand  while 
thus  ready  to  invite  the  desperate  onslaught  of  a 
monster  grizzly  was  a  naked  hunting  knife ! 

Karl  was  staggered  by  such  a  reckless  spirit;  he 
never  could  fully  understand  Indian  character — it 
had  so  many  contradictory  elements. 

It  was,  however,  no  time  for  juggling  with  the 
question,  for  there  was  old  Eph.  growing  more  fu- 
rious every  second  over  this  unwarranted  intrusion, 
and  ready  to  launch  himself  upon  those  who  had  dis- 
turbed his  solitude. 

Karl's  fingers  trembled  a  little  as  he  arranged  the 
handful  of  fat  pine  splinters  so  that  they  would  im- 
mediately flame  up  when  he  applied  the  lighted 
match. 

His  heart  was  almost  in  his  throat  as  he  could  in 
imagination  see  the  slight  figure  of  the  Indian  lad 
between  himself  and  the  beast,  awaiting  on  one  knee 
and  with  uplifted  knife  the  expected  attack. 

Then  came  the  crisis,  when  he  drew  the  match 
along  the  stone,  and,  as  the  flame  sprang  up,  applied 
it  to  the  resinous  pine.  There  was  a  flash  of  fire, 
and  the  inky  darkness  of  the  cave  was  almost  in- 
stantaneously dispersed. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   STAMPEDE. 

The  savage  growls  ceased  when  the  fat  pine 
splinters  burst  into  a  blaze.  It  was  as  though 
the  sudden  illumination  had  somewhat  startled  old 
Ephraim. 

Karl  did  not  dare  take  his  attention  away  from 
the  new-born  fire  until  his  deft  fingers  had  ar- 
ranged a  supply  of  small  sticks  which  would  be  apt 
to  keep  the  blaze  going. 

Although  this  only  consumed  some  seconds  of 
time,  it  seemed  ages  to  the  boy,  wild  to  turn  his  at- 
tention toward  that  spot  from  whence  had  come 
those  blood-curdling  growls. 

When  he  did  look  finally,  the  sight  was  quite  suf- 
ficient to  fill  him  with  awe. 

Such  a  grizzly  monster  he  had  never  set  eyes  on 
before;  indeed,  it  seemed  impossible  that  he  could 
have  entered  by  the  same  channel  they  had  em- 
ployed, so  great  was  his  bulk. 

This  ungainly  beast  was  only  momentarily  awed 
by  the  fire.  Then  his  ferocious  temper  once  more 
asserted  its  dominion  over  his  fears. 

In  the  presence  of  man  he  recognized  his  dead- 
liest foe. 

Growls  again  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  queer  hole 
in  the  wall,  and  the  monster's  front  was  fierce  be- 
yond expression. 

Meanwhile  Karl  had  been  saying  nothing  and 
sawing  wood.  With  him  every  second  counted,  and 
a  false  move  might  prove  destructive,  so  he  fed  the 
fat  pine  splinters  to  the  little  fire  until  it  was  robust 
enough  to  seize  upon  heavier  material  and  consume 
it. 


236  The  Stampede. 

So  it  chanced  that  this  delay  ami  hesitation  on 
Bruin's  part  was  of  tremendous  value  to  the  cause  of 
the  allies. 

The  very  second  Karl  believed  his  fire  was  in  a 
condition  to  feed  itself  he  ceased  his  delicate  manip- 
ulation, and  turned  his  attention  toward  the  quarter 
where  danger  lurked. 

It  was  high  time. 

Old  Eph.  had  finally  worked  himself  up  into  a 
rousing  temper,  and  decided  to  make  a  rush,  be- 
side which  any  college  cane  contest  or  football  game 
must  appear  trifling. 

He  gave  plain  warning  of  his  intention  by  a  roar 
that  sounded  like  a  burst  of  thunder. 

"You,  Karl,  look  out !"  shouted  the  Indian  lad,  in 
a  piercing  tone  of  voice. 

Karl  felt  that  his  hour  had  come. 

If  ever  his  gun  was  to  do  him  good  service,  that 
time  was  now. 

Considering  the  nature  of  the  danger  that  men- 
aced him,  his  hand  was  remarkably  steady  as  he 
threw  the  revolver  up  on  a  line  with  the  advancing 
form  of  his  bulky  adversary,  and  began  firing. 

It  seemed  as  though  pandemonium  had  broken 
loose,  what  with  the  sharp  detonations  of  the  gun, 
the  hoarse  roars  of  rage  and  pain  to  which  Bruin 
gave  vent,  and  the  shrill  cries  uttered  by  the  excited 
Indian. 

Through  it  all  that  blessed  fire  crackled  and 
burned  most  cheerily,  giving  the  illumination  that 
allowed  Karl  to  send  his  lead  where  it  was  apt  to  do 
the  most  good. 

The  bear  seemed  staggered,  as  though  hard  hit. 

Karl  knew  better  than  to  cease  firing,  for  had  he 
not  seen  such  a  monster  fight  like  a  demon  with 
all  of  twenty  bullets  in  him  ? 

Bruin  had  come  to  a  stop ;  he  pawed  the  air  much 


The  Stampede.  237 

like  a  prize  fighter  who  has  been  somewhat  dazed 
by  a  hard  blow. 

.     "All    up.     Me    finish    urn!"    cried    the    Indian. 
"Spoils  for  me.     He  no  harm  now.     Watch." 

"Look  out !"  yelled  Karl.  "The  feller's  not  dead 
by  a  long  way,  and  if  you  get  within  reach  of  him 
he'll Ah!  you'll  be  careful  next  time!" 

Little  Buckshot  made  the  mistake  of  believing 
the  monster  had  received  his  death  wound,  and, 
filled  with  the  desire  to  have  a  hand  in  the  game, 
so  that  he  might  wear  the  honors  in  the  shape  of  a 
bear's  claws  necklace,  he  swooped  down  upon  Bruin, 
knife  in  hand. 

Once,  twice,  thrice,  did  he  thrust  his  steel  blade 
into  the  hairy  side  of  the  grizzly,  and  then  received 
a  blow  that  sent  him  spinning  like  a  teetotum  or  a 
Dancing  Dervish  to  the  other  side  of  the  cavern. 

"Now,  it's  my  turn  again,  I  suppose,"  said  Karl. 

Two  shots  more  and  he  would  be  done. 

If  they  failed  to  finish  the  game,  it  threatened  to 
be  a  most  serious  business  indeed. 

The  bear  was  once  more  advancing.  Not  so  rap- 
idly as  at  first,  since  these  various  wounds  appeared 
to  have  weakened  him  considerably. 

Once,  twice,  the  gun  was  discharged. 

At  the  same  time,  Little  Buckshot,  recovering 
from  the  shock  and  astonishment  caused  by  his  sud- 
den, dizzy  fling,  rushed  forward  once  more  to  the 
attack,  burning  to  give  old  Bruin  as  good  as  he  sent. 

As  luck  would  have  it  the  bear,  in  making  his 
groggy  advance,  floundered  through  the  midst  of 
the  cheery  little  fire,  sending  its  elements  in  every 
direction,  and  a  state  of  semi-darkness  added  its 
horrors  to  the  situation. 

Karl  had  dropped  his  now  useless  gun  and  fallen 
back  upon  that  last  defense  of  the  prairie  man  at 
bay — his  hunting  knife. 

He  knew  the  bear  was  upon  him,  with  terrible 


238  The  Stampede. 

claws  that  could  rend  garments  and  flesh  into  rib- 
bons, once  they  got  to  work. 

"It's  all  up  with  me!"  he  cried. 

It  was  in  desperation  that  Karl  began  to  ply  his 
knife  as  soon  as  his  hand  came  in  contact  with  a 
hairy  side.  Then  he,  too,  received  a  stunning  blow 
from  one  of  the  swinging  forepaws  of  the  beast,  and 
measured  his  length  upon  the  hard  stone  floor. 

Half  dazed  by  the  concussion,  Karl  lay  there,  ex- 
pecting to  feel  the  fierce  embrace  of  his  ferocious 
enemy. 

To  his  surprise,  the  sounds  of  conflict  appeared  to 
drift  to  the  other  side  of  the  cavern.  He  could  hear 
the  feeble  growls  of  Bruin,  coupled  with  fierce,  ex- 
ultant whoops  of  Little  Buckshot,  who  seemed  to  be 
dancing  around  his  exhausted  and  almost  helpless 
enemy,  inflicting  a  new  wound  whenever  able  to  do 
so  without  coming  within  dangerous  reach  of  those 
terrible  claws. 

Karl  drew  himself  together. 

His  first  thought  was  gratitude  that  he  Wad  es- 
caped so  lightly. 

Then  he  felt  around  for  his  knife,  that  had  been 
knocked  from  his  hand  in  the  tumble,  eager  to  go 
to  the  assistance  of  his  ally. 

Ere  he  could  discover  the  weapon,  however,  a 
dreadful  stillness  had  come  upon  the  cavern.  Karl 
was  horrified. 

"Guess  that  bear's  dead,"  he  muttered;  "but  is  it 
all  up  with  Little  Buckshot,  too?" 

Eagerly  the  boy  crept  around,  gathering  the  still- 
glowing  embers  of  the  late  fire  together. 

Then  he  bent  down  and  blew  his  breath  upon 
them  until  at  length  they  burst  into  a  sudden  flame 
that  dissipated  the  darkness  and  rendered  the 
cavern  almost  as  light  as  day. 

With  awe  and  a  great  fear  tugging  at  his  heart, 


The  Stampede.  239 

our  Karl  looked  toward  that  quarter  whence  had 
come  the  last  sounds  of  conflict. 

What  he  saw  was  a  shaggy  mass  of  bear  seated 
astride  of  which  was  the  panting  and  triumphant 
Little  Buckshot,  who  could  only  grin  and  gasp  the 
one  expressive  word: 

"How!" 

It  was  well ! 

Victory  had,  indeed,  perched  upon  their  banner, 
and  to  these  lads  had  fallen  an  adventure  that  might 
make  them  envied  by  old  hunters. 

When  Karl  viewed  the  mighty  bulk  of  their  fallen 
foe,  and  felt  the  cruel  points  of  his  long  claws,  he 
could  not  but  feel  that  the  fortunes  of  war  had  fa- 
vored them  highly. 

Of  course,  the  first  thing  in  order  was  to  call  the 
roll,  and  ascertain  what  the  cost  of  victory  had  been. 

A  few  bruises  fell  to  Karl's  share,  and  he  consid- 
ered that  he  had  escaped  very  luckily,  considering 
what  might  have  occurred. 

The  Indian  was  also  bruised,  and  had  received 
numerous  scratches  that  bled,  and  looked  ugly  to 
Karl ;  but  Little  Buckshot  seemed  to  take  the  great- 
est pride  in  his  wounds,  as  though  they  cemented 
his  claim  to  the  coveted  claws. 

And  he  had  well  earned  the  trophies. 

Karl  proceeded  to  put  his  gun  in  serviceable  con- 
dition, as  there  was  no  knowing  when  it  might  be 
again  called  upon  for  service. 

When,  out  of  curiosity,  he  later  on  examined  the 
defunct  bear  to  discover  where  he  had  planted  his 
lead,  he  found  every  bullet  had  lodged  in  Bruin's 
body,  and  that,  given  a  little  time,  they  must  have 
brought  about  his  death,  which  fact  was  honor 
enough  for  Karl. 

Exhausted,  he  made  preparations  for  sleep,  hav- 
ing his  blanket  on  his  back. 

"Me  no  sleep — not  yet,"  said  the  Indian. 


240  The  Stampede. 

"And  why  not?"  demanded  Karl. 

"Good  reason,"  said  Little  Buckshot,  with  a 
glance  at  the  bear. 

"What!  You're  not  afraid  of  a  dead  bear,  are 
you?" 

"No;  urn  dead,  all  right." 

"Of  course  he  is." 

"Me  get  his  claws.  Show  big  chief.  Ugh! 
Wear  um — beautiful  necklace — fall  down,  worship 
me." 

Karl  laughed  boisterously. 

"Another  case  of  'alone  I  did  it,'  I  suppose,  as 
Cuthbert  would  say.  Ah,  well,  let  him  have  the 
glory,  I  guess  I  want  a  rest  more'n  anything  else." 

And  the  last  glimpse  Karl  had  of  the  Indian  he 
was  industriously  at  work  severing  the  toes  of  the 
once  mighty  monarch  of  American  beasts. 

The  hole  in  the  wall  afforded  the  two  young  allies 
a  secure  refuge  through  the  following  day. 

Once  Little  Buckshot  crept  out  to  take  the  stiff- 
ness from  his  wounded  limbs,  but  he  did  not  ven- 
ture near  the  retreat  of  the  desperate  characters 
who  had  made  their  stronghold  in  this  wild,  for- 
saken land,  contenting  himself  with  a  trip  to  the  in- 
closure  where  Buckskin  and  the  Indian  pony  had 
been  left  picketed. 

They  were  still  there,  and  had  apparently  not  been 
discovered  by  any  roving  outlaw. 

The  hours  dragged  to  Karl. 

He  was  utterly  weary  of  tough  old  pemmican, 
and  endeavored  to  make  a  dish  that  would  be  some- 
what more  palatable  by  cooking  the  last  of  the  In- 
dian's scanty  allowance. 

After  this  they  would  have  to  look  elsewhere  for 
their  meals. 

The  coming  of  night  was  eagerly  welcomed,  as 
both  of  them  were  anxious  to  get  to  work. 

It  had  been  decided  that  if  the  chances  appeared 


The  Stampede.  241 

good  they  would  make  a  bold  bid  for  fortune  ere 
the  turn  of  another  day. 

By  following  the  back  trail  they  had  hopes  of  run- 
ning into  the  arms  of  Mr.  Kelly  and  his  cowboy 
band,  if  so  be  those  worthies  were  coming  to  Polly's 
relief. 

Karl  was  heartily  glad  to  quit  the  pocket  in  the 
wall,  and  once  more  breathe  the  fresh  air,  to  hear 
the  breeze  rustle  the  coloring  leaves  overhead,  and 
see  the  bright  stars  hung  high  in  the  heavens. 

He  realized  what  a  desperate  piece  of  business  lay 
before  them,  but  the  spirit  of  enterprise  and  de- 
termination that  had  tided  him  over  numerous  diffi- 
culties in  the  past  again  came  to  the  fore,  and  bol- 
stered up  his  courage. 

It  was  Polly  whom  he  risked  all  for;  Polly,  who 
seemed  as  dear  to  him  as  a  young  sister,  and  whose 
cruel  fate,  if  left  in  the  midst  of  these  rough  ele- 
ments, was  enough  to  arouse  compassion  in  even  a 
less  sympathetic  breast  than  Karl's. 

They  approached  the  settlement  with  great  cau- 
tion. 

As  on  the  preceding  night,  it  was  a  scene  of  con- 
siderable confusion,  for  the  hour  of  feeding  was  on. 

Karl  speedily  caught  sight  of  Polly,  busily  en- 
gaged in  her  culinary  labors. 

He  watched  her  every  move  with  an  eagerness 
that  sprung  from  genuine  concern. 

"See  here,  Buckshot,"  said  Karl,  softly;  "we 
got  to  find  a  way  of  letting  Polly  know  we're  here 
and  that  we're  going  to  get  her  out  of  the  hands 
of  these  fellers." 

"How!"  ejaculated  the  Indian. 

"Yes,  that's  just  it — how?  Set  your  dusky  brains 
to  work  and  try  to  figure  how  we're  to  reach  Polly." 

"Me  tink  one  way." 

"Well,  let's  hear  it." 

"Polly,  she  woman." 


242  The  Stampede. 

"Yes;  what  Cuthbert  'd  call  the  hypothesis  is  cor- 
rect." 

"Woman  take  bucket — go  to  spring — get  water." 

"I  see ;  the  spring  is  on  the  outskirts  of  the  settle- 
ment and  you  think  Polly  might  be  down  there  get- 
ting water." 

"Karl  he  got  idee.  She  come — some  time — 
mebbe — no  know.  We  wait;  rocks  good  shelter — 
no  seen;  by'm-by  Polly  come.  Still  wait.  She 
alone.  No  one  'bout.  We  speak.  Polly  hear. 
She  un'stand." 

"Bully!"  cried  Karl.  "You're  a  trump  card, 
Buckshot,  and  the  world  ain't  big  enough  for  us  to 
find  gifts  for  you  after  we're  all  out  of  this  mess." 

"Um  paid  already,"  said  the  Indian,  simply. 

And  the  shudder  that  shook  the  brown  body 
showed  Karl  that  Little  Buckshot  had  still  with  him 
a  lively  picture  of  that  night  in  the  snow. 

"Let's  be  off  to  the  spring,  then,"  said  Karl. 

"You  go ;  me  keep  watch — me  no  far  'way.  Want 
me,  Little  Buckshot  there.  So?" 

"All  right,"  said  Karl,  and  with  a  nod  he  was  off. 

By  crawling  on  hands  and  knees  after  the  man- 
ner of  a  lynx  creeping  close  to  its  expected  prey  he 
was  finally  enabled  to  reach  a  point  not  more  than 
ten  feet  from  the  spring. 

The  water  gurgled  at  his  feet,  and  he  lay  down 
eagerly  enough  to  quench  his  thirst. 

Then  he  waited,  hoping  for  the  best. 

A  woman  came,  bucket  in  hand,  but  he  made  no 
sound  to  attract  her  attention.  She  seemed  a 
wretched,  weary-looking  creature,  evidently  at  the 
beck  and  nod  of  a  good-for-nothing  husband,  and 
dragged  with  him  into  his  exile. 

Later  on,  a  second  shuffled  up,  filled  her  pail,  and, 
with  weary  steps,  returned  to  the  thankless  task  of 
attending  to  the  appetites  of  the  men  belonging  to 
her  mess. 


The  Stampede.  243 

Polly  came  at  last. 

It  was  evidently  hard  to  crush  the  little  maid's 
spirits,  for  she  was  humming  a  tune  as  she  bent  over 
to  dip  her  bucket  in  the  clear  water  of  the  spring, 
and  Karl  was  strangely  thrilled  when  he  recognized 
the  familiar  strain  of  a  song  he  and  Cuthbert  had 
sung  in  company  with  her  sweet,  birdlike  voice  on 
many  a  starry  evening,  with  a  tinkling  Mexican 
mandolin  for  accompaniment. 

'Tolly!" 

The  girl  ceased  humming;  she  started  and  raised 
her  head.  Karl  could  see  by  the  firelight  that  her 
face  was  white  with  an  eager  apprehension,  as 
though  she  feared  lest  hope  might  have  sung  falsely 
to  her. 

"It's  me,  Polly — Karl,  you  know.  Don't  let  on 
you're  listening,  for  some  one  might  be  looking  and 
see  what  was  up.  But  listen  to  what  I  say.  Can 
you  hear  plainly?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Karl,  and  I'm  so  glad.  Is  Mr.  Kelly 
with  you,  and  Cuthbert?"  said  the  girl,  with  an  ea- 
gerness that  could  not  be  wholly  concealed. 

"I'm  sorry  to  say  not ;  but  I  reckon  they're  on  the 
road  here,  all  of  'em.  You  remember  the  Sioux 
boy,  Little  Buckshot?  Well,  he's  here,  and  we 
mean  to  get  you  out  of  this  fix." 

"How  good  and  brave  of  you,  Karl." 

"Never  mind.  That'll  do  to  tell  me  after  we've 
got  you  back.  We  know  your  hut.  Keep  awake, 
and  when  you  hear  an  owl  cry  three  times,  come 
down  here  with  your  bucket.  You  catch  what  I 
mean,  Polly?" 

He  spoke  quickly,  because  there  was  always  a 
chance  of  their  being  interrupted.  Indeed,  even 
then  he  saw  a  woman,  bucket  in  hand,  stop  to  gos- 
sip with  another  poor  slave  at  a  fire,  as  though 
about  to  come  for  water. 

Polly  eagerly  gave  an  affirmative  reply.     She  was 


244  The  Stampede. 

quick  to  grasp  the  essential  details  of  a  situation, 
thanks  to  her  ready  wit. 

"We  hope  to  stampede  the  stock,  and  so  cut  off 
a  chase  for  a  time  that  will  give  us  at  least  a  start." 

How  her  bright  eyes  beamed  when  she  heard  this ! 
Why,  a  veteran  like  Old  Sile  could  not  have  planned 
a  more  effective  arrangement.  She  was  proud  of 
Karl — proud  of  the  fact  that  he  was  her  friend,  her 
adopted  brother,  and  that  he  braved  these  dangers 
for  her  sake. 

There  was  no  opportunity  to  say  anything  further, 
for  the  woman  with  the  pail  was  coming  toward  the 
spring;  so,  taking  up  her  burden,  Polly  went  back  to 
the  fire  where  her  duties  demanded  attention. 

Strangely  enough,  she  sang  no  more,  which 
might  seem  singular  on  the  face  of  it,  since  her  heart 
must  have  rejoiced  over  the  fact  that  the  chance  of 
liberty  was  so  bright. 

Perhaps  the  fact  that  Karl  was  to  risk  so  much  in 
her  behalf  gave  her  uneasiness. 

When  the  opportunity  came,  Karl  once  more 
crawled  over  to  where  the  Indian  lay  concealed  be- 
hind the  rocks. 

Watching  all  that  took  place  in  the  settlement  of 
the  bad  men,  they  were  able  to  confer  regarding 
their  plans,  and  make  arrangements  looking  toward 
their  carrying  out. 

Time  crept  along  heavily  enough. 

Once  the  Indian  left  Karl,  and  was  gone  a  long 
while.  When  he  returned  he  said  he  had  been 
working  on  the  back  of  the  corral,  arranging  mat- 
ters so  that  the  balance  of  the  wall  could  be  easily 
removed,  making  a  gap  through  which  the  horses, 
if  thoroughly  alarmed,  would  push  and  crowd  in 
wild  disorder,  scattering  through  the  country  be- 
yond, so  that  it  would  be  a  matter  of  hours  ere  the 
first  of  them  could  be  retaken,  while  the  last  might 
be  wandering  for  days  in  an  alkali  desert. 


The  Stampede.  245 

By  degrees  the  village  was  quieting  down. 

Karl  hoped  midnight  would  find  the  conditions 
favorable  for  their  adventure. 

The  longer  time  that  was  to  elapse  between  the 
stampede  and  daylight  the  better  chances  they  would 
have  for  escape. 

Besides,  a  spirit  of  eagerness  beset  these  young 
crusaders  that  might  have  been  absent  had  they 
been  veterans  in  such  work,  for  youth  is  ever  ar- 
dent, and  impatient  of  restraint. 

Karl  remembered  that  Cuthbert  had  suffered  the 
same  symptoms  of  distress  when  waiting  for  the 
Sioux  village  to  lapse  into  silence. 

They  killed  a  little  time  by  crawling  around  to  the 
corral,  where  the  Indian  entered  to  select  a  pony  for 
Polly. 

This  he  succeeded  in  securing,  leading  the  animal 
out  through  the  breach  he  had  made  in  the  outer 
wall,  and  fastening  him  with  a  bit  of  rope  to  a  tree 
where  they  could  readily  find  him  when  the  crisis  ar- 
rived. 

All  of  which,  being  smartly  done,  reflected  consid- 
erable credit  upon  Little  Buckshot,  the  son  of  a 
chief. 

And  now  the  time  had  come  when  they  must  put 
the  plan  into  operation. 

Up  to  this  hour  no  hitch  had  occurred,  but  the 
most  serious  part  of  the  business  was  yet  to  be  gone 
through  with,  for  once  the  alarm  had  been  given, 
they  knew  full  well  furious  men  would  rush  this  way 
and  that,  only  desirous  of  an  opportunity  to  shoot 
with  deadly  aim — men  who  mocked  at  the  law,  and 
thought  it  no  sin  to  take  human  life,  if,  by  so  doing, 
they  could  at  any  time  advance  their  own  interests. 

To  the  Indian  was  given  the  task  of  sending  the 
signal  arranged  upon  with  Polly,  and  accustomed  to 
mimicry,  he  would  experience  no  difficulty  in  imi- 
tating the  owl  that  haunted  this  lonely  region  so 


246  The  Stampede. 

perfectly  that  even  a  suspicious  ear  might  find  trou- 
ble in  discovering  the  cheat. 

This  he  did  ere  entering  the  corral,  for  he  knew 
his  appearance  among  the  ponies,  carrying  the 
freshly-taken  hide  of  the  grizzly  bear,  carried  for  this 
very  purpose,  would  send  the  animals,  frenzied  with 
fear,  to  the  other  end  of  the  rocky  stockade,  where 
they  must  find  the  breach  in  the  wall  and  go  flying 
madly  over  the  country  beyond. 

Karl's  heart  was  almost  in  his  throat  as  he  heard 
the  thrice-told  hoot  of  the  owl  sound  clearly  upon 
the  still  night  air. 

"Wonder  if  Polly'll  reply  to  that?"  he  questioned. 
"  'Tain't  likely,  as  Polly,  tired  out,  will  have  fallen 
asleep." 

In  that  case,  as  it  occurred  to  Karl,  the  golden 
opportunity  would  be  lost,  unless  one  of  the  boys 
visited  the  hut  and  aroused  Polly,  for  daylight  would 
reveal  to  the  denizens  of  the  desert  settlement  what 
material  damage  had  been  done  to  their  stockade, 
and  their  watchfulness  would  prevent  a  successful 
venture  in  a  similar  channel  on  the  succeeding  night. 

Crouching  there,  Karl  kept  his  eyes  glued  upon 
the  cabin  in  which  he  knew  the  girl  belonged. 

He  never  knew  until  then  how  long  even  seconds 
of  time  might  be. 

"Polly,"  he  murmured.     "Bless  her  sweet  heart !" 

Just  as  he  had  instructed  her,  the  girl  went  to  the 
bucket  and  with  the  dipper  endeavored  to  secure  a 
drink,  as  though  seized  with  a  thirst  that  would  not 
be  denied. 

Since  there  was  not  a  drop  in  the  pail  to  satisfy 
her  demands,  she  took  it  up  and  made  for  the  spring. 

Karl  was  trembling  with  excitement  now — so 
much  depended  upon  whether  Polly  were  allowed  to 
follow  out  her  apparently  natural  and  innocent 
whim;  but,  so  far  as  he  could  discover,  no  one  else 


The  Stampede.  247 

appeared  to  be  moving  about  the  settlement,  and 
hope  took  an  upward  bound. 

Nearer  she  came,  swinging  the  pail  in  the  most 
careless  manner  possible. 

He  yearned  to  step  out  and  meet  her,  yet  realized 
that  such  an  action  might  ruin  all,  or,  at  least,  lessen 
the  chances  of  success. 

Once  at  the  spring,  Polly  bent  over  as  if  to  fill 
her  bucket. 

The  moon  showed  her  figure  and  face  plainly,  as 
there  was  no  covering  overhead  here. 

"Karl!"  she  said,  softly — almost  in  a  whisper. 

"I'm  here,"  came  the  reply. 

"What  shall  I  do  next?"  anxiously. 

"Leave  your  bucket,  and  come  in  among  the 
rocks.  It's  time  for  the  show  to  begin,  I  guess." 

She  was  quick  to  obey;  the  prospect  of  leaving 
this  camp  of  refugees  and  reprobates,  to  again  take 
up  her  happy  life  at  dear  old  Sunset  Ranch  was 
quite  enough  to  thrill  Polly  to  the  very  heart  and 
hasten  her  footsteps. 

Karl  caught  her  trembling  hand  in  his  sturdy 
grasp,  as  though  he  would  by  the  mere  contact  in- 
spire her  with  new  courage. 

"Don't  be  afraid;  everything's  going  hunky-dory, 
and  the  goose  hangs  high.  Now  come  with  me, 
Polly,  dear,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear — the  boy  ele- 
ment cropping  up,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
been  showing  such  manly  attributes  in  his  work  of 
late. 

She  was  only  too  delighted  to  obey,  and  Karl,  still 
stooping  low,  led  her  in  the  direction  where  the 
animal  captured  from  the  corral  by  Little  Buckshot 
was  secured. 

As  yet  the  stampede  had  not  begun,  for  it  was 
good  policy  to  delay  this  last  and  finishing  stroke 
until  some  restless  movement  in  the  camp  made  it 
necessary  to  act. 


248  The  Stampede. 

Fortune  seemed  kind,  for,  while  they  covered  the 
ground  between  the  camp  and  the  tree  to  which 
the  horse  was  fastened  there  was  no  sign  of  an 
alarm. 

All  of  which  pleased  the  young  rescuer  more  than 
words  could  tell.  If  they  escaped  the  videttes 
posted  by  the  inhabitants  of  this  lone  village  in  the 
Bad  Lands,  all  might  be  well,  and  their  safety  as- 
sured. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  when  he  reached  the 
horse  the  waiting  Indian  should  be  notified  of  the 
fact,  in  order  that  he  might  begin  his  dangerous  part 
of  the  bold  enterprise. 

That  time  had  arrived,  and  if  success  followed 
Little  Buckshot's  exertions  there  would  presently 
be  a  decided  scarcity  of  stock  in  that  section  of  the 
country,  since  a  horse,  frightened  by  the  appearance 
of  a  dreadful  grizzly  in  its  corral,  is  not  likely  to  stop 
running  short  of  five  miles,  once  it  breaks  forth  from 
confinement. 

Karl  discharged  his  gun,  taking  care  to  hide  the 
flash  as  much  as  possible,  so  that  their  location 
might  not  be  discovered. 

Immediately  there  broke  out  shouts  and  cries 
from  many  throats  in  the  awakened  village;  but,, 
above  all  sounded  the  yells  of  the  young  Indian 
brave  in  the  corral  as  he  swung  the  freshly-taken 
bear  skin  about  and  sought  to  arouse  in  the  horses 
the  greatest  alarm  possible,  for  this  was  not  Little 
Buckshot's  first  stampede. 

In  this  he  was  successful,  for  their  keen  scent  dis- 
covered the  presence  of  what  was  to  them  their 
most  dreadful  foe — the  grizzly  bear. 

Karl  laughed  when  he  heard  the  snorts  and  neighs 
of  wild  alarm,  mingled  with  the  trampling  of  hoofs 
in  quickly-accumulating  force  until  it  assumed  a 
thunderous  roar. 

"They're  off;  it  has  worked  like  a  charm.     Now 


The  Stampede.  249 

let  the  rascals  guess  what  struck  'em.  They'll  think 
the  Indians  have  made  a  sweep  on  their  live  stock,  I 
reckon.  Let  me  lead  the  horse,  Polly,  and  you 
walk  beside  me,  for  the  danger  ain't  all  past  yet," 
said  he. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SUNSET      RANCH. 

The  noise  and  confusion  increased  as  the  aroused 
refugees,  believing  old  Standing  Elk  and  a  party  of 
his  braves  had  descended  upon  their  live  stock  as 
hawks  pitch  upon  a  dovecot,  and  were  stampeding 
the  horses,  endeavored  to  outdo  one  another  in 
shouts  and  directions  that  only  served  to  make  the 
hubbub  more  furious. 

Karl  was  conscious  of  a  wild  thrill  of  exultation  as 
he  considered  that  this  tremendous  explosion  in  the 
camp  of  the  outlaws  had  been  wholly  and  solely  the 
work  of  himself  and  the  young  Indian  buck. 

For  two  boys,  they  were  certainly  making  their 
mark  in  the  world  at  an  early  stage. 

No  doubt  the  aroused  desperadoes  would  have 
been  more  angry  than  alarmed,  had  they  been  given 
an  inkling  of  the  truth,  since  a  couple  of  tender  kids 
were  not  apt  to  inspire  a  great  deal  of  respect  in  the 
minds  of  such  toughened  and  case-hardened  char- 
acters; but  they  had  heard  Little  Buckshot  whoop 
like  a  whole  swarm  of  Sioux  braves,  and  jumped  to 
the  conclusion  that  a  dozen,  at  least,  were  con- 
cerned in  the  bold  raid. 

If  the  excited  horses  could  manage  to  push  and 
crowd  through  the  opening  in  the  stockade  all 
would  be  well;  there  would  not  be  a  single  nag  left 
for  pursuit. 

Karl  had  the  utmost  faith  in  his  comrade,  but,  of 
course,  the  young  Sioux  was  not  beyond  making  a 
mistake. 

Perhaps  he  crowded  the  horses,  in  his  eagerness 
to  rush  them  through.  At  any  rate,  no  one  could 
blame  him  for  wishing  to  make  haste,  since  the  set- 


Sunset  Ranch.  251 

tlement  was  boiling  and  a  lot  of  furious  rustlers 
would  speedily  be  surrounding  the  corral,  prevent- 
ing his  escape. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  a  few  horses  managed  to  turn 
and  gallop  back  toward  the  gate,  though  the  main 
body  pushed  through  the  fracture  in  the  wall  and 
went  careering  madly  over  the  alkali  desert  beyond. 

When  the  Sioux  boy  darted  after  the  last  of  them, 
he  was  observed  by  several  running  men,  who  took 
snap-shots  at  the  shadowy  figure;  but  it  is  no  easy 
task  to  hit  such  a  flitting,  bounding  target,  seen  in 
the  fitful  glow  of  the  moonlight,  and  the  dusky 
stampeder  escaped  scot  free. 

He  was  not  immediately  pursued,  because  the  idea 
prevailed  that  a  big  force  of  Indians  might  be  in  the 
vicinity,  and  these  cautious  outcasts  from  society 
knew  enough  of  the  Sioux  character  to  suspect  an 
ambush  might  await  such  a  hazardous  rush. 

Karl  had  believed  he  knew  the  way  to  where  the 
horses  had  been  left  most  thoroughly,  but  somehow 
conditions  seemed  to  change  the  appearance  of  the 
country,  and  several  times  he  was  within  an  ace  of 
losing  himself. 

.  This  sort  of  a  thing  would  never  do.  It  meant 
ruin  to  all  their  plans,  the  recapture  of  Polly,  and 
a  worse  fate  for  himself,  if,  through  ill  luck,  he  fell 
into  the  outcasts'  hands. 

He  must  brace  up,  take  a  new  hold  and  not  get 
off  has  base  again. 

By  degrees  he  had  been  leaving  the  still  stormy 
settlement  far  in  the  lurch,  and  had  reason  to  be- 
lieve he  must  be  near  the  secret  little  inclosure 
where  Buckskin  and  the  Indian  pony  had  been  pock- 
eted. 

There  was  one  thing  Karl  forgot. 

The  videttes. 

Little  Buckshot  had  declared  that  the  members  of 
this  outlaw  community  always  kept  at  least  one  sen- 


252  Sunset  Ranch. 

try  on  duty  day  and  night,  to  report  the  coming  of 
any  force  that  might  be  sent  into  the  Bad  Lands  by 
the  Government,  or,  possibly,  the  settlers  and 
ranchmen,  irritated  beyond  endurance  by  the  fre- 
quent raids  of  these  lawless  characters. 

Where  this  guardian  of  the  camp  was  posted  the 
Indian  had  not  been  able  to  declare,  but  believed  it 
must  be  some  place  along  the  trail,  which  was  the 
main  reason  he  had  wished  to  cache  their  horses, 
even  when  a  mile  or  more  away  from  the  village. 

So  it  happened  that  Karl  was  fated  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  this  fellow  in  a  manner  not  at  all 
calculated  to  please  him. 

Without  the  least  warning,  he  suddenly  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  a  strapping,  big-bearded 
chap,  who  surveyed  him  with  astonishment. 

The  row  from  the  village  had,  of  course,  excited 
his  curiosity,  and  he  was  debating  as  to  whether  he 
had  better  remain  on  deck  where  he  was,  or  hasten 
back  to  the  assistance  of  his  allies,  when  he  thus 
came  upon  the  cowboy,  leading  a  horse,  on  which 
was  seated  a  midget  of  a  little  woman. 

"Halt,  thar!  What's  all  this  ruction  about?" 
was  the  way  the  hairy  giant  saluted  him. 

Karl  had  received  a  shock  at  sight  of  the  other, 
but,  with  true  cowboy  instinct,  his  hand  had  in- 
stantly gone  in  search  of  his  gun. 

"The  Indians  have  stampeded  the  stock,  and  I 
reckon  they're  cleaning  out  the  whole  place.  It 
ain't  safe,  nohow,  and  I've  concluded  to  levant — 
that's  all." 

He  was  surprised  at  himself  for  the  coolness  with 
which  he  made  this  reply. 

"Injuns,  hey?  and  cleanin'  out  the  stock,  be  they? 
Well,  the  boys  hev  been  jest  spilin'  fur  a  scrimmage 
this  long  time  back,  and  I've  an  idee  they  kin  wallop 
any  pesky  red  varmints  as  may  drop  down  on  'em. 


Sunset  Ranch.  253 

An'  now,  who  in  tarnation  be  you,  and  who  allowed 
ye  to  be  running'  off  with  the  capten's  gal?" 

This  seemed  a  poser,  but  Karl  was  not  in  a  humor 
to  dally  longer.  He  knew  that  the  suspicions  of  the 
giant  had  been  aroused,  and  that  sooner  or  later  it 
must  reach  a  question  of  supremacy  between  them. 

As  minutes  were  precious  to  the  fugitives,  he  be- 
lieved the  sooner  he  grappled  the  bull  by  the  horns 
and  met  the  crisis  the  better. 

"I've  got  a  message  for  you,"  he  said,  to  arouse 
the  fellow's  curiosity. 

"Oh,  you  be?  Well,  out  with  it,  kid,  afore  I  tie 
yer  hands  together  and  tote  ye  back  to  camp;  what's 
the  message?" 

"Drop  that  gun!" 

Karl  had  covered  him  like  a  flash.  His  hand  may 
have  trembled  a  little,  but  such  a  thing  would  not 
count  at  close  quarters. 

In  the  moonlight,  his  face  looked  set  and  white, 
and  there  was  an  air  of  determination  about  his 
whole  person  that  could  not  but  sensibly  affect  the 
one  who  was  threatened. 

The  giant  may  have  had  only  contempt  for  such  a 
little  whipper-snapper  chap  as  Karl  appeared  in  his 
Goliath  eyes,  but  he  entertained  a  healthy  respect 
for  a  gun  in  the  hands  of  a  range  rider. 

Consequently,  he  dared  not  attempt  to  make  use 
of  the  weapon  he  held,  but,  realizing  that  the  other 
meant  strictly  business,  he  allowed  it  to  slip  from 
his  hands  until  it  landed  with  a  thump  on  the 
ground. 

At  the  same  time,  he  growled  like  a  hyena  at 
bay,  furious  to  be  thus  humiliated  by  a  mere  strip- 
ling whom  he  could  easily  down  with  one  hand  tied 
behind  his  back. 

"Now,  turn  around — not  that  way,  but  headed 
toward  camp.  Can  you  run?"  demanded  Karl. 

"Summat,  I  reckon,  kid?"  surlily. 


254  Sunset  Ranch. 

"Then  go  it  at  your  best  pace,  for,  when  I've 
counted  ten,  I'm  going  to  shoot,  and,  if  you're  within 
range,  down  you  go.  One!" 

"See  hyar,  young  feller " 

"Two!" 

"But  I  give  ye  my  word " 

"Three !" 

Then  the  giant  lurched  forward  and  began  to 
cover  ground  as  though  he  were  a  prize  sprinter  in 
a  college  athletic  contest. 

When  Karl  said  "ten"  he  sent  a  bullet  after  the 
roaring  vidette,  just  as  he  promised.  Doubtless,  it 
sung  close  to  his  ears,  for  he  bellowed  louder  than 
ever. 

Since  the  thing  was  done,  and  the  camp  must 
presently  learn  the  truth,  Karl  knew  there  was  no 
longer  any  virtue  in  trying  to  steal  along. 

Haste  was  of  prime  importance  now. 

So  he  urged  Polly's  pony  on,  keeping  a  close 
lookout  for  the  dead  tree  that  marked  the  entrance 
to  the  little  valley. 

Perhaps  he  had  been  wiser  had  he  made  a  pris- 
oner of  the  vidette,  and  left  the  fellow  bound  and 
gagged  upon  the  spot;  but  a  lack  of  cord  and  the 
time  to  accomplish  such  a  task  had  deterred  him. 

Besides,  the  giant  was  hardly  the  man  with  whom 
a  stripling  like  Karl  cared  to  dally  any  length  of 
time.  By  a  quick  movement,  he  might  knock  the 
gun  from  the  cowboy's  hand,  and  then  it  would  be 
all  up  with  the  youngster. 

Surely,  the  place  where  the  horses  had  been  left 
must  be  somewhere  near. 

Karl's  heart  began  to  grow  cold  with  serious  ap- 
prehension. After  all  he  had  done,  could  it  be  pos- 
sible he  would  slip  up  now? 

Soon  the  enraged  bush  rangers  would  be  scour- 
ing the  vicinity  in  search  of  him,  posted  by  the 
giant  vidette's  report. 


Sunset  Ranch.  255 

Perhaps  it  would  be  best  for  Polly  to  make  off  to- 
ward the  south.  She  would  stand  a  chance  of  es- 
cape, though  the  dangers  of  desert  and  plain  were 
not  pleasant  to  consider. 

It  chanced,  however,  that  Polly  had  a  mind  of 
her  own,  and  was  able  to  assert  it,  for  when  she 
heard  what  Karl  was  considering,  she  settled  the 
whole  matter  by  flatly  refusing  to  leave  him. 

"Besides,"  she  said,  as  a  clinching  argument,  "I 
should  surely  die  of  fright  if  night  caught  me  alone 
on  the  prairie.  No,  Karl,  the  dangers  that  threaten 
you  must  be  shared  by  me.  We'll  stick  together 
through  thick  and  thin." 

And  Karl,  deep  down  in  his  boyish  heart,  was 
ready  to  bless  her  for  those  words — "through  thick 
and  thin." 

Fortunately,  at  about  this  time,  a  shrill  whistle 
sounded  near  by  that  startled  Polly,  but  gave  Karl 
the  liveliest  satisfaction. 

"That's  the  signal  of  Little  Buckshot;  bully  for 
him !  We're  all  right,  now,  Polly.  Here's  the  dead 
tree,  after  all,  and  there  he  comes  with  the  horses." 

Again  the  situation  began  to  look  hopeful,  and 
Karl  felt  like  tossing  his  hat  into  the  air  with  one 
of  his  old-time  cow-puncher  yells. 

But  discretion  caused  him  to  refrain,  for  they 
were  not  yet  out  of  the  woods. 

Buckskin  was,  of  course,  delighted  to  see  his  be- 
loved master  again.  He  had  been  giving  the  Indian 
boy  a  little  trouble,  for  it  seemed  as  though  the 
yellow  broncho  never  would  get  over  his  antipathy 
to  the  race. 

How  good  it  seemed  to  be  on  his  back  again! 
Karl  felt  as  though  he  could  defy  any  danger,  now 
that  he  once  more  bestrode  a  horse — the  old  cowboy 
instinct  over  again. 

"Listen,  Karl!"  said  the  young  brave,  as  he  fin- 


256  Sunset  Ranch. 

ished  fastening  the  bearskin  on  the  back  of  his  un- 
willing, dancing  pony. 

They  all  bent  their  ears  to  catch  the  sound  to 
which  Little  Buckshot  referred. 

"Horses !"  said  Karl,  quickly. 

"Come  from  above.  Too  bad,  not  all  get  clear  of 
corral.  Now  chase  us,"  grunted  the  Sioux,  guess- 
ing, with  wonderful  instinct,  that  those  of  the  men 
who  could  find  mounts  were  swooping  down  to  as- 
certain the  meaning  of  the  vidette's  mad  bellowing, 
and  must,  therefore,  soon  learn  the  truth  and  be 
after  them,  post  haste. 

Karl  knew  what  this  meant — a  hot  pursuit,  per- 
haps a  running  battle,  and  in  the  end  their  being 
brought  to  bay. 

They  must  take  advantage  of  every  second  of 
time,  since  the  outlaws  naturally  knew  the  ground 
much  better  than  the  young  Indian,  and  were  thus 
in  a  position  to  take  advantage  of  many  a  crook 
and  turn  that  would  save  a  few  furlongs. 

They  urged  their  ponies  on  as  fast  as  the  dan- 
gerous nature  of  the  ground  would  permit,  and 
seemed  to  be  making  good  time,  so  that  Karl  was 
quite  encouraged,  until  the  Indian,  with  his  native 
sagacity,  called  a  halt  in  order  to  determine  whether 
the  pursuit  were  still  kept  up,  as  their  own  steeds 
made  so  much  noise  it  was  impossible  to  discover 
this  fact  while  on  the  full  jump. 

Judging  from  the  increased  clearness  of  the  noises 
in  their  rear  the  foe  was  bearing  down  with  a  venge- 
ance. Not  only  had  they  kept  up  the  pursuit,  but 
were  perceptibly  gaining. 

Then  Karl  knew  the  game  was  up. 

By  degrees  they  would  be  overhauled,  simply  be- 
cause they  knew  less  about  the  trail  than  those  who 
thundered  in  their  rear. 

And,  if  overhauled, .what  then? 

He  shut  his  teeth  hard  together,  after  the  manner 


Sunset  Ranch.  257 

of  one  who  refuses  to  consider  the  idea  of  giving 
up  the  ship,  no  matter  how  dark  and  dreary  the 
prospect  may  appear. 

One  alternative  remained,  such  as  a  prairie  man 
always  keeps  in  reserve.  They  must,  at  the  last, 
drop  into  the  best  harbor  that  came  handy  and  turn 
upon  their  hot-footed  pursuers. 

Perhaps  when  a  little  lead  came  rattling  in  their 
midst,  the  eager  desparadoes  might  change  their 
minds  about  a  sudden  assault,  and  haul  off  for  rer 
pairs. 

Thus  the  two  boys  would  be  in  a  position  to  hold 
them  at  bay,  in  the  hope  of  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Kelly's  men  on  the  scene. 

The  flight  was  resumed. 

Little  Buckshot  had  also  guessed  the  true  state 
of  affairs  by  this  time,  and  yet  he  gave  no  evidence 
of  such  a  thing  as  alarm;  Indians  have  always  in- 
herited stoicism  that  glories  in  danger  and  even 
physical  suffering,  so  that  they  go  to  the  stake  with 
a  song  on  their  lips  and  defiant  words  for  their  ene- 
mies. 

And  he  was  the  son  of  a  chief ! 

The  horses  were  urged  on  as  swiftly  as  the  na- 
ture of  the  ground  permitted. 

Again  and  again  the  Sioux  boy  glanced  back  over 
his  shoulder,  since  Karl  was  too  busily  occupied  in 
looking  ahead  in  order  that  they  might  avoid  the 
roughest  route. 

Little  Buckshot  was  a  picture,  though  he  knew  it 
not,  clinging  to  the  back  of  a  flying  pony,  his  long, 
coarse,  black  hair  plucked  from  its  confinement  and 
streaming  wildly  in  the  breeze  created  by  his  own 
rapid  passage,  his  bronzed  arms  and  clear-cut  feat- 
ures looking  as  though  cut  out  of  brown  marble. 

In  terse  sentences  he  reported  what  he  saw  to  his 
companion,  but  it  brought  little  encouragement,  for 


258  Sunset  Ranch. 

the  steady-riding  pursuers  were  slowly  but  surely 
gaining. 

The  Indian  had  made  an  unhappy  choice  in  a 
pony  for  Polly. 

Their  own  animals  could  have  almost  made  rings 
about  the  other  beast,  under  a  stress  of  circum- 
stances, and,  as  a  chain  is  only  as  strong  as  its 
weakest  link,  they  could  not  go  faster  than  the  ani- 
mal that  dragged. 

Polly  even  begged  Karl  to  leave  her  and  seek 
safety  himself,  so  that  he  might  come  again  another 
day  with  the  cowboy  band  and  effect  her  rescue. 

Of  course,  he  scoffed  at  the  idea  indignantly,  and, 
with  a  mocking  laugh,  cried: 

"Through  thick  and  thin,  Polly,  you  said.  We 
sink  or  swim  together." 

And  Polly  endeavored  to  persuade  him  no  more. 

Perhaps  she  realized  what  a  blessed  thing  it  was 
to  have  so  sincere  and  faithful  a  friend,  even  if  he 
were  only  a  cowboy.  He  risked  all  he  had  on  earth 
in  her  behalf — his  life — and  a  prince  of  the  royal 
blood  could  do  no  more. 

The  pursuers  were  now  drawing  so  close  that 
Karl  knew  the  chase  was  near  its  finish. 

He  no  longer  busied  himself  in  endeavoring  to 
find  the  easiest  passage.  That  were  a  matter  that 
would  presently  concern  them  but  little. 

What  he  most  desired  was  to  discover  some  spot 
where  the  rocks  would  form  a  natural  fort,  behind 
which  they  might  take  refuge  and  hold  off  the  eager 
foe. 

That  was  one  advantage  possessed  by  this  wild 
country  over  the  open  prairie — it  offered  a  much 
better  chance  of  defense,  for  there  were  places — 
Karl  had  seen  many  of  them — where  two  well- 
armed  and  determined  men  could  keep  a  score  at 
bay. 

One  thing  he  could  not  understand  was  the  utter 


Sunset  Ranch.  259 

silence  with  which  their  enemies  followed  at  their 
heels. 

They  must  know  they  were  gaining  all  this  while, 
and  such  a  triumph  ought  to  fill  them  with  a  wild 
exultation  that  would  seek  an  outlet  in  vociferous 
shouts. 

Could  it  be  they  were  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
such  an  outburst  would  only  whip  the  fugitives  into 
greater  exertions? 

At  any  rate,  Karl  thought  it  very  odd. 

Just  when  a  retreat,  in  which  they  could  find 
refuge,  was  most  needed,  it  persisted  in  remaining 
out  of  sight — at  least,  Karl  began  to  feel  something 
like  despair  creep  over  him,  as  the  miles  flew  by 
without  such  a  discovery. 

He  knew  the  pursuers  would  not  fire  upon  them 
unless  provoked  beyond  all  endurance,  for  the  pres- 
ence of  Polly  granted  them  this  insurance — Polly, 
who  represented  something  of  value  in  the  eyes  of 
their  leaders,  though  Karl  himself  did  not  pretend  to 
understand  what  it  meant. 

After  all,  it  was  the  keen  hawklike  eyes  of  the 
Indian  boy  that  lighted  upon  a  promising  place  of 
refuge. 

A  few  quick  sentences,  and  he  had  drawn  Karl's 
attention  to  the  spot. 

It  offered  a  promising  asylum  to  the  weary  fugi- 
tives, and  could  apparently  withstand  a  most  vig- 
orous assault. 

So  their  course  swerved  to  the  right  a  little,  and 
they  bore  down  upon  the  fort. 

Upon  their  arrival  they  found  the  place  even  bet- 
ter situated  than  they  had  dreamed  of  in  their 
most  sanguine  moments. 

Nature  had  perfected  a  freak,  piling  the  rocks 
in  a  rampart  around  a  little  basin  not  more  than 
thirty  feet  across,  and  leaving  just  one  opening 
through  which  the  horses  could  press. 


260  Sunset  Ranch. 

They  took  the  place  by  storm. 

Hardly  had  they  gained  the  inclosure  than  Little 
Buckshot  landed  lightly  on  his  feet. 

Karl  was  hardly  a  whit  behind  him ;  and  Polly  did 
not  wait  to  be  assisted  down,  since  she  had  long  ago 
learned  to  be  independent  in  all  matters  pertaining 
to  horses  at  least. 

All  seemed  working  as  well  as  they  had  any  rea- 
son to  expect. 

But  there  was  no  time  now  to  more  than  cast  one 
quick  glance  around. 

That  look  gave  Karl  renewed  confidence,  for  it 
showed  him  the  natural  strength  of  this  oasis  in  the 
desert,  apparently  destined  to  become  their  little 
Gibraltar. 

Seconds  counted  for  much. 

The  thunder  of  approaching  horses'  hoofs  was  in 
the  air;  but  a  brief  interval,  and  the  foe  would  be 
upon  them. 

Could  he  and  the  Indian  hurl  them  back? 

It  seemed  to  the  boy  as  though  the  supreme  mo- 
ment of  his  life  had  arrived,  and  that  he  must  arouse 
himself  to  the  utmost  in  order  to  meet  the  emer- 
gency. 

With  a  cry  to  the  dusky  offspring  of  a  chief  he 
sprang  to  the  stockade. 

As  he  looked  over,  he  could  see  a  confused  med- 
ley approaching. 

The  capricious  moon  took  occasion  at  this  par- 
ticular moment,  when  her  light  was  most  valuable  to 
our  young  friends,  to  hide  her  face  behind  a  pass- 
ing cloud. 

This  seemed  a  bad  omen,  since  it  must,  of  neces- 
sity, injure  their  aim. 

Beggars  must  not  be  choosers,  however,  and, 
under  the  circumstances,  they  would  have  to  do  the 
best  they  could. 

Closer  still  swept  the  cavalcade. 


Sunset  Ranch.  261 

"Make  every  shot  tell,"  said  Karl,  witfi  a  strange 
tremor  in  his  voice,  for  which  he  could  hardly  be 
blamed  under  the  circumstances. 

"Me  wait — moon  come  soon  mebbe.  You,  Karl, 
tell  me  when  shoot,"  replied  the  Sioux,  by  which  he 
meant  he  would  hold  his  fire  until  the  cowboy  gave 
the  signal. 

Karl  swept  a  glance  aloft;  it  was  even  as  Little 
Buckshot  declared — the  moon  was  already  trem- 
bling on  the  edge  of  the  cloud,  ready  to  smile  upon 
the  silent  earth  once  more. 

But  the  onrushing  horsemen  were  perilously  near, 
so  that  when  the  illumination  came  it  must  be  the 
signal  for  their  opening  fire. 

That  moment  was  a  supreme  one  in  Karl's  young 
life.  It  seemed  as  though  he  lived  ages  in  a  very 
few  seconds  of  time,  and  his  shoulders  had  to  bear 
the  world's  burden,  as  did  those  of  Atlas  of  old. 

Now  the  light  began  to  come. 

He  meant  to  call  out  again  to  Little  Buckshot  to 
steady  him,  though  such  a  thing  were  hardly  needed 
with  the  Indian,  but,  just  at  this  juncture  something 
brushed  Karl's  elbow,  something  that  was  more  in 
his  mind  than  his  own  safety. 

It  was  Polly! 

The  girl  had,  in  some  manner,  secured  a  pistol 
while  among  the  cabins  of  the  outlaw  settlement; 
perhaps  Jasper  Hosmer  had  placed  it  in  her  pos- 
session in  order  that  she  could  defend  herself  from 
insult.  Be  that  as  it  might,  she  was  full  of  pluck, 
and  quite  determined  to  share  Karl's  danger,  no 
matter  what  followed. 

He  could  not  deny  her  the  privilege,  knowing 
what  grave  issues  were  at  stake.  Indeed,  there  was 
no  time  to  speak,  for  the  moment  had  arrived  when 
action  became  a  paramount  issue. 

And  now  the  oncoming  posse  of  horsemen  gave 
tongue,  just  as  Karl  expected;  but  he  was  almost 


262  Sunset  Ranch. 

paralyzed  when,  instead  of  the  fierce  shouts  of  the 
lawless  desperadoes,  he  heard  the  well-remembered 
cowboy  yell,  saw  a  dozen  hands  swinging  hats  high  in 
air,  and  even  caught  a  voice  he  recognized  as  Cuth- 
bert's  shrieking: 

"Karl,  Karl,  don't  shoot!  we're  the  boys  from 
Sunset  Ranch!     Karl!  oh,  Karl!" 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE     I<AST     ROUND-UP. 

It  seemed  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 

Karl  dug  his  knuckles  into  his  eyes  and  looked 
again,  to  see  the  wild  riders  swinging  up  with  vo- 
ciferous shouts  of  hearty  welcome  and  congratula- 
tion. He  could  even  distinguish  Mr.  Kelly  and  Old 
Sile,  together  with  the  shrieking  Virginia  boy  in 
the  van,  and  all  were  waving  sombreros  like  people 
possessed. 

Into  Karl's  heart  there  crept  a  peace  such  as  he 
had  never  known  before — a  spirit  of  gratitude  that 
brought  tears  to  his  eyes,  so  great  was  the  revul- 
sion of  feeling.  A  minute  before  he  had  been  al- 
most at  the  point  of  despair,  and  nerved  to  take  hu- 
man life  if  need  be  in  order  to  defend  Polly,  while 
now  the  spirit  of  war  fled  to  give  place  to  the  gentle 
dove  of  peace. 

He  turned  to  Polly.  Their  hands  met  in  a  fervent 
clasp ;  not  a  word  was  exchanged,  but  the  tears  that 
glistened  in  her  eyes,  as  well  as  the  glow  of  satis- 
faction illuminating  his  face,  spoke  eloquently 
enough. 

Already  the  Indian  was  on  top  of  the  stockade, 
brandishing  his  arms  and  giving  vent  to  whoops 
that  voiced  his  sentiments.  Little  Buckshot  could 
meet  death  without  a  tremor,  but  life  had  charms 
for  the  son  of  a  chief  with  a  future  before  him,  and 
he  flung  aside  his  stoical  ways  for  once  to  allow  his 
natural  feelings  full  swing. 

There  Karl  joined  him  as  soon  as  he  could  com- 
mand his  limbs ;  and  there  he  swung  his  old  weather- 
beaten  felt  hat  with  right  good  will  to  welcome  the 
coming  of  the  boys. 


264  The  Last  Round-Up. 

Their  startling  appearance  on  the  scene  was  a 
deep  mystery  to  him.  He  still  believed  they  had 
been  chased  by  the  furious  spirits  of  the  settlement, 
and  how  these  worthies  came  to  be  changed  into 
his  old  comrades  of  ranch  and  range  life  was  beyond 
his  comprehension. 

So  they  came  pouring  in,  leaping  from  their 
horses  as  they  drew  up. 

Cuthbert  was  the  first  to  seize  upon  Karl,  and 
he  hugged  him  like  a  bear,  such  was  the  intensity  of 
his  emotions. 

"Old  fellow,  I'm  awful  glad  to  see  you  again. 
And  you've  done  yourself  proud.  There  isn't  a 
man  on  the  range,  Old  Sile  says,  could  have  made 
a  neater  job  of  it.  I'm  proud  of  you,  I  am.  And 
where's  Polly,  dear  little  Polly.  She's  my  cousin, 
Karl,  the  very  cousin  I've  been  chasing  around  after 
for  a  year.  What  d'ye  think?  It's  all  come  out, 
and  is  almost  too  wonderful  for  belief." 

Another  minute  and  he  found  Polly,  who  was 
crying  in  Mr.  Kelly's  arms — Polly,  who  had  borne 
up  so  bravely  through  all  the  perils  of  the  last  few 
days,  now  asserting  her  right  to  the  woman's  refuge 
in  tears. 

They  were  a  happy  crowd,  indeed. 

The  boys  had  only  one  regret,  and  this  that  they 
might  not  have  a  touch-and-go  bit  of  warfare  with 
the  evil  spirits  who  made  their  abiding  place  in  the 
fastness  of  the  Bad  Lands.  But  Mr.  Kelly  knew 
his  little  band  would  be  greatly  outnumbered  by  the 
bad  men,  and  also  that  these  choice  characters  were 
desperate  fighters  who  would  play  havoc  in  the 
ranks  of  his  range  riders  should  they  be  attacked  at 
home.  Accordingly,  he  gave  orders  that  the  jour- 
ney toward  the  ranch  should  be  immediately  re- 
sumed. 

Cuthbert  hovered  around  Karl  and  Polly  like  an 


The  Last  Round-Up.  265 

"old  hen  brooding  over  her  chicks,"  as  he  himself 
laughingly  expressed  it. 

They  were  doubly  dear  to  him  after  having  gone 
through  such  peril. 

By  degrees,  Karl  learned  from  Mr.  Kelly  just 
how  it  came  about  that  the  cowboys  were  near  the 
village  at  the  time  of  the  stampede,  and  guessed 
so  well  how  affairs  lay  that  they  followed  the  fugi- 
tives in  post  haste. 

Old  Sile  had  taken  his  party  into  the  place  by 
means  of  a  roundabout  way,  so  that  when  they 
finally  came  upon  the  outcasts'  settlement  it  was 
from  the  north,  exactly  opposite  to  that  point 
where  the  boys'  advance  was  made. 

When  the  stampede  occurred,  Old  Sile  was  in  the 
village  scouting  about.  He  had  seen  Polly  go  to 
the  spring,  swinging  her  pail ;  had  watched  her  van- 
ish beyond,  and  even  detected  the  presence  of  some- 
one who  met  her. 

The  old  ranger  was  capable  of  grasping  things 
that  were  in  his  line,  and  he  started  back  to  join  his 
comrades  with  the  information  that  some  one,  pre- 
sumably Karl,  had  been  before  them,  and  that  the 
girl  was  already  in  full  flight. 

Then  came  the  wild  stampede  that  caused  Old 
Sile  to  chuckle.  Well  did  he  know  what  meaning 
could  be  attached  to  such  a  confused  uproar. 

The  Indian  whoops  puzzled  him  a  little,  but  he 
never  once  lost  faith  in  the  notion  that  Karl  was 
the  leading  spirit  in  the  game. 

Although  they  had  seen  the  three  flying  figures 
ahead,  they  had  not  been  able  to  make  sure  of  their 
identity,  which  was  the  chief  reason  why  they  main- 
tained silence  up  to  the  time  our  boys  took  to  the 
stone  fort. 

It  had  all  ended  well. 

Looking  back  and  seeing  how  many  chances  there 
were  for  a  slip  in  the  programme,  Karl  was  satisfied 


266  The  Last  Round-Up. 

that  a  good  fortune  had  surely  attended  their  actions. 
They  had  mapped  out  their  plan  and  carried  it 
through  as  well  as  they  were  able,  but  much  of 
their  success  was  due  to  a  favoring  Providence. 

They  had  nothing  to  fear  longer. 

The  desperadoes  would  think  well  before  setting 
out  to  pursue  a  posse  of  Sunset  Ranch  cowboys,  and 
even  did  they  possess  such  a  desire  for  open  war- 
fare, it  was  doubtful  whether  they  could  collect  a 
dozen  mounts  all  told  inside  of  six  hours,  so  well 
had  Little  Buckshot  accomplished  his  work  in  the 
corral.  There  is  nothing  more  effective  than  the 
freshly-taken  skin  of  a  grizzly  bear  to  excite  lasting 
terror  in  a  Western  broncho. 

They  took  it  easy  on  the  way  home. 

Only  a  few  days  had  elapsed  since  Karl,  Cuthbert 
and  Polly  were  together,  and  yet  it  seemed  an  age — 
so  much  had  happened  since. 

Their  tongues  wagged  almost  incessantly  all  day, 
and  there  seemed  a  never-ending  succession  of  sub- 
jects to  be  discussed. 

All  were  in  a  merry  mood,  and  at  evening,  seated 
by  the  camp-fire,  the  three  entertained  their  cowboy 
friends  with  many  a  song,  some  of  the  range  riders 
joining  in  a  chorus  when  it  struck  the  popular  fancy. 

Karl  did  not  realize  how  thoroughly  worn  out  he 
had  been  by  the  expedition  until  he  at  length  rolled 
himself  in  his  blanket  and  sought  rest  in  slumber. 

He  knew  nothing  more  until  aroused  by  the  cow- 
boy reveille,  the  beating  of  a  frying  pan,  to  summon 
the  party  to  breakfast. 

It  may  be  safely  assumed  that  the  young  son  of  a 
chief  was  not  neglected  when  congratulations  were 
going  around. 

Mr.  Kelly  had  in  mind  a  suitable  present  which 
he  meant  to  give  Little  Buckshot  and  which  would 
doubtless  make  him  happy. 

But  nothing  could  ever  equal  the  pride  with  which 


The  Last  Round-Up.  267 

the  young  buck  exhibited  his  healing  wounds,  and 
pointed  to  his  neck,  where  hung  the  newly-made 
necklace  of  grizzly  bear  claws. 

From  that  hour  he  was  fitted  to  wear  the  moc- 
casins of  his  famous  old  father,  the  chief,  since  none 
might  question  his  valor. 

At  last  they  sighted  the  long,  low  building  of  Sun- 
set Ranch. 

What  a  homecoming  it  was! 

Every  one  appeared  wild  with  joy,  shouting  and 
firing  guns  in  the  air,  careering  over  the  prairie  and 
showing  such  satisfaction  as  only  cowboys  may. 

The  alarm  bell  added  its  wild  clang  to  the  gen- 
eral confusion;  cattle,  catching  the  excitement,  bel- 
lowed most  lustily;  sheep  dogs  barked,  horses 
neighed  as  they  pranced  hither  and  thither,  and, 
taken  in  all,  it  was  a  scene  of  exhilaration  such  as 
the  boys  had  never  participated  in  before. 

There  stood  good  Mrs.  Kelly  at  the  horse  block 
in  front  of  the  door,  waving  her  white  apron  in  one 
hand  and  ringing  a  big  dinner  bell  with  the  other, 
bent  upon  doing  her  share  to  make  the  wanderers' 
return  a  jubilee. 

And  little  Polly  was  soon  gathered  to  her  ma- 
tronly bosom,  where  she  once  more  allowed  her 
tears  to  flow,  only  they  were  of  greatest  joy,  not 
woe. 

Karl  was  well  pleased  with  the  way  things  had 
turned  out. 

No  one  had  been  injured,  and  their  plan  of  ef- 
fecting the  release  of  Polly  had  been  a  complete  suc- 
cess. 

He  knew  Jasper  Hosmer  would  never  have  an- 
other opportunity  to  steal  the  girl  away.  Indeed, 
his  life  was  not  worth  the  snap  of  one's  fingers  if 
ever  seen  around  Sunset  Ranch  again,  for  each  and 
every  cowboy  had  registered  a  solemn  vow  to  end 
his  loping  on  sight. 


268  The  Last  Round-Up. 

Karl  and  Cuthbert  did  not  resume  the  old  life. 
Their  plans  were  arranged  for  the  future,  though 
this  wonderful  discovery  concerning  Polly  came 
near  changing  matters. 

It  was  finally  agreed,  however,  that,  for  the  win- 
ter, the  young  girl  should  remain  with  the  Kellys, 
who  meant  to  go  to  Southern  California. 

Karl  and  Cuthbert  enjoyed  the  last  few  weeks  on 
the  range  hugely. 

There  was  a  mournful  pleasure  in  doing  every- 
thing for  the  last  time. 

Even  a  soaking  rain,  when  taking  a  turn  at 
night  wrangling  the  saddle  horses,  was  accepted  in 
the  light  of  a  joke,  for  it  makes  all  the  difference  in 
the  world  whether  one  undertakes  a  hardship  as  a 
duty  or  a  species  of  sport. 

They  scoured  the  country,  visiting  every  familiar 
bit  of  territory,  while  Old  Sile  was  making  prepa- 
rations for  their  winter  campaign.  Here  Cuthbert 
had  caught  his  prize  fish  in  the  cool  waters  of  the 
river  where  they  gurgled  over  the  old  logs  and 
other  obstructions  that  formed  the  Riffles;  there 
Karl  had  had  his  encounter  with  a  steer  that  had 
gone  mad  in  the  August  sun,  and  caught  him  afoot ; 
in  this  place  the  stampede  had  taken  them  by  sur- 
prise when  an  awful  thunderstorm  broke  over  the 
range  at  midnight. 

So  it  went. 

There  were  hosts  of  reminiscences  that  flooded 
their  minds  and  made  them  feel  sad,  even  while  they 
gloried  in  the  prospect  that  awaited  them  in  the  near 
future. 

What  fun  it  was  to  hunt  the  lurking  wolf;  to 
chase  the  bounding  jack  rabbit;  to  smell  all  the  fa- 
miliar sweet  odors  of  their  beloved  prairie. 

They  enjoyed  it  all  to  the  full. 

Each  day  brought  its  pleasures;  the  weather  was 
crisp  and  clear,  and  it  seemed  as  though  nature  were 


The  Last  Round-Up.  269 

exerting  herself  to  the  utmost  in  order  to  make 
amends  for  the  past. 

Little  Buckshot,  loaded  with  honors  and  presents, 
had  departed  to  his  people;  a  prouder  young  buck 
certainly  never  bestrode  a  pony  than  he  seemed  to 
be  on  the  morning  he  left  the  ranch,  turning  several 
times  to  wave  a  dignified  and  graceful  farewell  to  his 
paleface  friends. 

They  would  never  forget  him,  and  the  boys,  re- 
membering the  circumstances  when  they  first  made 
his  acquaintance  and  the  opinion  they  had  then 
formed,  were  prone  to  believe  that  even  the  best 
judges  of  human  nature  may  sometimes  be  mis- 
taken. 

Mr.  Kelly  brought  great  news  one  night  on  his 
return  from  Helena,  whither  he  had  gone  on  busi- 
ness connected  with  making  a  heavy  shipment  of 
cattle  East. 

At  last  the  Government  had  been  aroused  to  the 
fact  that  the  Bad  Lands  harbored  a  nest  of  vipers  in 
the  shape  of  every  refugee  driven  from  mining  camp, 
border  settlement  and  cattle  ranch  within  hundreds 
of  miles. 

A  force  of  cavalrymen  had  been  sent  out  to  break 
up  the  gang,  and  bring  a  few  of  the  most  noted  des- 
peradoes to  judgment. 

The  result  had  been  something  of  a  pitched  bat- 
tle, in  which  the  troopers  lost  several  men,  but  in- 
flicted terrible  damage  upon  the  outcast  horde,  scat- 
tering them  to  the  four  winds,  capturing  a  few,  and 
leaving  others  for  the  coyotes. 

It  was  a  great  day  for  the  cattle  rangers  when  this 
settlement  was  utterly  wiped  out  by  fire  and  the 
sword. 

Perhaps  less  damage  would  be  done  among  the 
horses  and  cattle  during  the  winter  months,  with 
these  thieves  scattered  through  the  country. 

And  Mr.   Kelly  privately  told   the  boys  he   had 


2jo  The  Last  Round-Up. 

good  reason  to  believe  Jasper  Hosmer  had  this  time 
really  paid  nature's  debt,  for  he  was  reckoned 
among  those  who  fell  in  the  stormy  scenes  attend- 
ing the  cavalry  charge  on  the  outlaws'  den. 

Of  course  this  news  gave  satisfaction,  for  in  the 
eyes  of  the  boys  Hosmer  was  something  of  an  ogre, 
who  had  carried  the  princess  off  to  his  enchanted 
castle,  where  he  meant  to  detain  her  until  the 
showers  of  golden  coin  rained  down  from  her  lips,  as 
in  the  fairy  story;  and  now  that  he  was  under  the 
daisies,  they  could  go  off  upon  their  winter  hunt 
with  more  confidence  that  all  would  be  well  with 
Polly. 

Old  Sile  entered  into  the  business  with  much  en- 
thusiasm. 

It  stirred  up  memories  of  days  long  since  num- 
bered with  the  past,  days  when  he  had  been  a  trap- 
per by  profession,  daring  the  perils  of  the  almost  un- 
known Northwest,  to  collect  precious  pelts  under 
the  very  noses  of  Blackfeet  and  Crows,  who  hated 
his  kind  most  bitterly,  and  never  neglected  an  op- 
portunity to  wipe  a  trapper  from  the  face  of  the 
earth. 

With  unlimited  means  and  such  judgment  as  long 
experience  had  given  him,  the  veteran  was  very  apt 
to  collect  such  material  as  would  most  conduce  to 
their  comfort  while  in  the  wilderness. 

At  the  same  time  he  knew  all  about  the  difficulties 
of  transportation,  and  did  not  mean  to  take  along 
more  than  they  could  conveniently  "tote"  over  a 
carry,  when  such  a  thing  became  necessary. 

With  good  guns,  plenty  of  ammunition,  and  a  sup- 
ply of  modern  steel  traps  of  the  best  make,  he  reck- 
oned they  ought  to  pull  along  until  spring,  and 
get  fat  in  the  bargain — all  of  which  the  future  alone 
could  decide. 

Sunset  Ranch  days  were  almost  over,  so  far  as 
the  boys  were  concerned,  for  it  was  not  their  inten- 


The  Last  Round-Up.  271 

tion  to  return  to  the  X  bar  X  outfit,  for  any  length  of 
time,  at  least,  even  in  the  spring. 

Other  plans  awaited  their  attention,  Cuthbert  hav- 
ing long  desired  to  see  the  Land  of  the  Montezumas, 
where  a  cousin  operated  a  curious  ranch  and  had 
lately  insisted  on  a  visit  from  the  young  Virginian, 
throwing  out  mysterious  remarks  about  some  long 
forgotten  mine  once  worked  by  the  Dons  when 
Spain  was  at  the  height  of  her  glory  and  ruled  the 
world. 

Before  the  time  came  for  the  final  breaking  up, 
the  young  range  riders  were  given  an  opportunity 
to  indulge  in  a  last  round-up,  when  the  cattle  were 
selected  for  shipment,  it  being  Mr.  Kelly's  desire  to 
thin  out  his  vast  herds  in  order  that  he  might  carry 
as  little  worry  with  him  to  sunny  California  as  pos- 
sible. 

They  entered  into  the  game  with  more  zest  than 
ever  before. 

Somehow  there  is  always  a  peculiar  charm  about 
what  might  once  have  seemed  an  onerous  duty, 
when  doing  it  for  the  last  time. 

Cuthbert  fairly  outdid  himself  in  "milling"  his 
bunch  of  cattle  and  heading  off  stragglers.  His 
shout  was  as  strong  as  the  war  whoop  of  a  Sioux 
brave  out  for  loot,  and  his  rope  fell  true  every  time 
with  marvelous  precision,  so  that  Karl  was  more 
than  proud  of  the  expert  cowboy,  who  had  so  re- 
cently graduated  from  the  tenderfoot  class. 

And,  as  on  that  former  occasion,  when  he  wit- 
nesed  his  first  round-up,  Cuthbert  climbed  to  the 
roof  of  Sunset  Ranch  to  cast  his  eyes  around  upon 
the  stirring  scene,  to  gaze  upon  the  galloping  herds 
heading  from  every  quarter  toward  the  grand  cor- 
ral, with  cowboys  circling  around,  shouting,  waving 
their  hats,  slapping  their  chaps  with  quirts,  in  order 
to  startle  a  sluggish  steer,  or  darting  out  like  ar- 
rows from  the  bow,  so  as  to  head  off  a  straggler — 


272  The  Last  Round-Up. 

what  a  stirring  spectacle  and  how  it  must  thrill  the 
veins  of  the  lad,  who,  during  his  apprenticeship  on 
the  range,  had  grown  to  love  ranch  life  charms! 

Then  came  the  hot  work  of  separating  the  herds, 
picking  out  those  intended  for  shipment,  and  confin- 
ing them  in  a  separate  corral,  from  whence,  in  the 
morning,  they  would  be  started  on  the  long  journey 
to  the  shipping  station  on  the  railroad. 

Altogether,  it  had  been  a  glorious  day,  and  would 
live  long  in  the  memories  of  the  two  lads,  now  pre- 
paring for  a  change  of  base. 

When  the  sun  hung  low  in  the  west,  like  a  great 
red  globe,  and  slanting  rays  fell  athwart  the  pecu- 
liar old  long  ranch  buildings,  Cuthbert,  together 
with  Karl  and  Polly,  stood  there  looking  around 
upon  the  scene  that  had  become  so  precious. 

Their  eager  eyes  took  in  every  detail,  from  the 
lowing  cattle  to  the  weary  knots  of  cowboys  at- 
tending to  their  horses,  as  if  they  could  thus  carry 
with  them  for  evermore  the  picture  thus  presented. 

Now  the  sun  had  reached  the  horizon,  the  shad- 
ows lengthened,  and  night  drew  near.  How  peace- 
ful it  all  looked  in  the  weird  glow  of  that  last  slant- 
ing illumination.  In  the  heart  of  each  the  wish 
arose  that  thus  might  it  ever  be  with  the  beloved 
ranch  in  the  days  that  were  to  come. 

And  now,  with  a  sigh,  they  saw  the  cheery  orb  of 
day  vanish  from  view,  and  each  realized,  with  some- 
thing of  pain,  that,  for  a  long  time  to  come,  they 
might  not  again  witness  his  farewell  to  Kelly's 
ranch. 

So,  with  clasped  hands  and  hearts  that  were  a  lit- 
tle heavy,  in  spite  of  the  glorious  future  awaiting 
them,  they  passed  from  the  gloaming  into  the  more 
cheerful-lighted  interior  of  Sunset  Ranch. 

THE  END. 


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